The Twelve Shall Unite
by Merdina
Summary: Things are looking up for Dib. He's made a new friend, and his reputation for being crazy has more or less disappeared. But a cryptic note and a string of horrific murders could destroy all this and change his life forever... Final chapter is up.
1. Prologue

The Twelve Shall Unite

Prologue- A Normal Day

Dib rolled sleepily out of bed, scratching the back of his neck and yawning as he trudged out of his room and into the shower. The water was cold, as it always was at this time in the morning, since Gaz used up all the hot water. She didn't like having hot showers, but she did it simply to annoy him. He didn't mind anymore, however. He was used to it by now, and as the freezing droplets rolled over his pale, smooth skin, the sudden drop in body temperature woke his brain up, and allowed him to think straight. Shampoo, lather, rinse. Shower gel, lather, rinse. Out, towel and dress, before going downstairs for a nutritious breakfast of chocolate Pop-tarts and coffee. So far, a normal day.

He ate slowly, as he always did, savouring each mouthful of the sugary pastry and sipping the coffee. He hated coffee, but it made him look more adult, and that was what mattered. Well, actually, what mattered was making the Earth see that Zim was an alien, that he _wasn't_ crazy. He was actually advancing on one of his goals, as he had stopped raving on about Zim and started using more subtle methods of exposing Zim, and this had greatly improved his social life. He had even been on a 'date' with Gretchen, though just the once. He had accepted her nervous suggestion of "grabbing a coffee, or something" out of pity, though he had to admit that it hadn't been as bad as he had expected.

He had gathered a few acquaintances now, not friends, but people that he would sit with during lunch breaks at Hi-Skool. Mainly outcasts, like himself, though he had found conversations cropping up with the popular kids during lessons. But whilst he had become slightly more popular, he still wasn't going to change. And he still wore his trench coat, though it was getting a little short in the arms now. He wore a blue shirt underneath, and, occasionally, black-and-blue striped arm warmers. He was wearing them now, as he clutched his steaming mug.

Finally having finished his breakfast, he glanced his watch. He only had fifteen minutes before he had to get to school. He double-checked his bag, as he always did, to make sure he had all his books. Satisfied, he slung the bag over his shoulder and started the trek to school, passing Zim's house as usual. He counted under his breath, and, sure enough, as he got to three, Zim's door burst open and the Irken strutted from the door, catching up with Dib and walking with him. The two had walked to Hi-Skool together since they had moved up from the Skool, always in silence. They shot glares to each other instead of talking, sending the same ugly look back and forth like a tennis match.

Zim hadn't changed a bit since Skool. He still wore his Invader uniform and he still shouted and raved, desperate to prove his 'normality'. However, he had had a growth-spurt over the past few years, and his height rivalled Dib's. Zim's glare seemed particularly hateful today, and Dib smirked. He could see the bruise on Zim's cheek, one that he had inflicted himself with a heavy book. It had earned him a four month suspension from the Hi-Skool library, but it had been worth it. They walked reluctantly up the steps to the entrance, finally going their separate ways as Dib went to his locker. He opened it and a note slipped out, not written, but comprised of letters cut and pasted from newspapers.

_Beware, sea-goat, the battering ram, swifter than the arrow. Like a red rag, you shall tip the scales, better sidestep the twins. So innocent, but with a powerful roar and a sting in the tail, you shall sleep with the fishes in your watery grave. _

Dib read the string of gibberish three times over, utterly baffled. What on Earth did it mean? He sighed and stuffed the paper into his pocket, deciding to read it again later. A muffled giggle from behind a locker door suggested that this was simply a prank. Somebody was trying to make him have an 'outburst', to make him appear crazy again. He forgot all about it when he entered the classroom and saw the teacher's crushed body pinned to the wall by his heavy desk. A thin trail of blood leaked from his mouth, and one of his legs stuck out from the side of the desk at a horrific angle. Dib looked around the classroom in horror. The room was not empty.

Zim sat alone at his desk, crimson eyes fixed determinedly on the teacher's body. He turned slowly to face Dib. He was smiling.

**Please review and I shall update as soon as possible. **

**I don't own Invader Zim. It is the property of Jhonen Vasquez.**


	2. The Battering Ram

Chapter One

The Battering Ram

The only person that Dib counted as a friend was a girl by the name of Emma Dribben, who had moved to the neighbourhood three months ago. Her father owned and operated a new observatory, and she often spoke to him when he called up with the coordinates of planets and comets that he hadn't seen before. She was ditsy and forgetful, though quite intelligent, and her love of stargazing kept her up until the early hours of the morning. This meant that she often overslept and was frequently late for school. Dib had become used to Emma's sudden, hurried entrances to first period, but nonetheless he jumped a foot in the air when she burst in now, red-faced and panting, gasping a breathless apology for her tardiness that quite literally fell upon dead ears. It was her yelp at the sight of the teacher that brought Dib back to Earth.

He walked towards the corpse slowly and steadily, forcing himself to take each step. Something on the floor had caught his eye. He picked it up delicately, turning it between his fingers. It was a button from the teacher's lab coat, small, shiny and round. And extremely heavy for such an innocent object. There was a large crack on it, and with quivering fingers Dib prised it open. A round metal disk fell into his hands, and as he lifted it towards his face for a closer look, it attached itself to the frames of his glasses, refusing to part with them. It was a magnet, and an extremely powerful one at that, as the arm of his glasses snapped off when he tugged it. He took his spares from inside his trench coat and crossed the room in two huge strides, standing straight in front of Zim.

"What the hell did you do?" Dib demanded, slamming his fist on Zim's desk. His books were all set out for the lesson that he would never do, and he was fiddling with a pencil, looking up at Dib with a warm, friendly smile that chilled him to the bone.

"The teacher-unit is nothing to do with Zim," he replied simply.

Dib had been about to strangle the Irken when a scream sounded at the door. Zim didn't move, but Dib turned to see Ms. Monday, the headmistress looking in, white-faced and nauseated. Before he had time to work out anything else, Dib, Zim and Emma had been ushered from the room. Dib and Emma sat outside the headmistress's office, where Zim was already being questioned. Dib had already been spoken to. In the horrified silence that had filled the corridors of the building, they could clearly hear the soft questions and Zim's dramatic responses.

"Now then, son," the officer said gently, not wanting to distress the odd, green child before him any more than he already was, "Start from the beginning. I don't quite understand what you just said."

"FOOLISH HUMAN!!! The desk LEAPT up and flew at the pitiful school-drone like a GIANT METAL DOG!!! His soft exoskeleton crumpled, and his organs were _squished_ into a meaty soup! How can you fail to comprehend…"

"C'mon, now, lad," the officer cut in, slightly disturbed by the kid's enthusiastic description, "You can't really mean that the desk flew across the room of its own accord!"

"YOU DARE QUESTION ZIM?!?"

"I can see you're upset, but…"

Zim wrenched the door open and stormed out, sneering at Dib as he passed him. The officer sighed. He hated interrogating children. Dib walked in and sat down, clearing his throat importantly.

"I have something here that might help your case, sir," he said, holding out the magnet that was still attached to the arm of his glasses. "It was in his button. It's an extremely powerful magnet, and there may be more in his other buttons. I think that they might have attracted the desk over at high speed."

"I see…" the officer mused. He was a short, squat man, with broad, sharp shoulders, and his uniform was pristine. However, as with all of the officers in Dib's neighbourhood, he was dull-witted, slow and closed-minded. "Well, I'm sorry, son, but it doesn't seem likely. We're having the desk dusted down for prints at the moment, but in the meantime I guess you could help out by looking out for anyone that looks strong enough to lift that desk."

Dib groaned, trudging to the door. No wonder the crime rate in the neighbourhood was so high, with officers like these. Emma walked to the door to be questioned, but the officer looked straight through her.

"Erm… Aren't you going to question my friend, sir?" Dib asked eventually, and the officer shrugged and stomped off down the corridor. Emma rolled her eyes behind her angular, black and white glasses.

"They're breaking up early so that they can investigate. Shall we go back to your place?" she suggested, and Dib nodded. They walked out of the gates and back up the street, in silence at first. Conversation was hard to start with Emma, but when it eventually sparked up, it could end up being ablaze for hours.

"I think it was Zim," Dib began, and she shrugged, glancing over her eyeliner to the kooky green house as they passed it. She was the only person that was in complete agreement with Dib about Zim, though she didn't see him as a threat to Earth. In fact, she had shown signs of wanting to be friends with the Invader, which Dib would rebuff with a long lecture about the fate of the Earth should they let down their guard.

"I dunno, Dib. I mean, Zim _seems_ evil, but I don't think he'd kill a teacher without reason."

"But the magnets… I've never seen magnets that powerful just hanging around. They could be Irken technology, and it would be all too easy for Zim to plant them in the buttons of that lab coat…"

They reached his house and walked in, and though the wind slammed the door shut loudly behind them, his father didn't call up to ask why they were home so early. Though, he probably wasn't home at this time. Dib neither knew nor cared where he was. They went into his room and sat on the bed, both shaken and nervous about what they had seen. Emma sat at the kitchen table and Dib made some coffee for them both.

"Zim's story is really annoying," Dib began as he stirred the liquid, "He's telling the truth, but nobody else will believe him. He's just leaving out the part where the magnets dragged the desk across the room."

"I guess the magnet theory is the only possible one," Emma said reasonably, adding in a sceptical tone, "Unless somebody picked up a solid metal desk and ran with it like a battering ram…"

Dib froze with the cup half-way to his lips. He turned to face her, eyes wide.

"What did you just say?"

"Battering ram," she repeated, sounding puzzled. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the note, unfolding it and putting it on the table in front of her.

"This was in my locker this morning," he said, and they read the words in silence.

'_Beware, sea goat, the battering ram, swifter than the arrow.'_

Emma furrowed her brow and bit the side of her lip. Dib had seen the expression enough times to know that she was thinking deeply, and left her to it. Under the bright kitchen light her long, constantly messy chestnut hair gleamed, and a spot of light reflected off her glasses. She and Dib were the only kids in their class with glasses. He still had the round, thin wire frames that were as inconspicuous as possible, but she had square, thick framed, black and white ones that drew attention to her round grey eyes and the liner underneath them. She had round, almost chubby cheeks, and he had a square, angular face. Whilst they were opposites in appearance, the two were interested in the same things, and Emma was the only one that listened to him about Zim, and Dib trusted her. She looked up at last.

"This is weird, Dib. The note, I mean. It could just be a prank, but I doubt it." This was the way that she started a lot of debates with Dib; saying the argument and adding 'but I doubt it' to appease him. "I mean, it has to mean _something_, but you only linked it to Mr Raise because I said 'battering ram'."

"But it makes sense. Zim likes a challenge; what if he's warning me about the murder and more to come, so I can try to stop him. Making things a little more interesting for him?"

"Or maybe it's not Zim," Emma sighed, "I'm sorry, Dib, but you are a little neurotic about him, you know?"

"You don't have to see the good in everyone, Emma," Dib said, glowering at her over his coffee cup, "It _was_ Zim. I know it."

"Okay, okay. Sorry," she said, and her phone buzzed. She read the text message and gave an apologetic grin. "It's my mom. She's just heard about Mr Raise, she wants me home. I've gotta go. I'll think about this some more, though."

She pulled a black and white striped notebook from her bag and copied down the cryptic note in her round, swooping scrawl, shoving everything back clumsily and walking to the door.

"Bye," Dib mumbled, and she waved over her shoulder as she hurried down the street. Dib looked at her coffee cup. She hadn't drunk any of it. He swallowed the scalding liquid in one gulp and opened his laptop, accessing the video link into Zim's base. He had planted a camera there three months ago, and it had remained untouched. Emma could remain sceptical about Zim's guiltiness in all of this, but he intended to expose him once and for all.

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez, but Emma Dribben belongs to me. In fact, she's based on me (appearance-wise). **


	3. The Alien Within Your Gates

Chapter Two

The Alien Within Your Gates

Dib watched Zim and GIR. The two were sitting on the couch and watching the television, or at least, GIR was. Zim was crowing to himself about how ingenious his latest plan was.

"It's _perfect_, GIR, and fool-proof! When I've repaired the teleporter, we can complete my master-plan, and rule this filthy rock of _filth_…"

"But the Tallest won't come, master," GIR said thoughtfully, in a rare moment of reasoning, "They's too busy with their rulin' to come down here!"

"Nonsense, GIR! When the Tallest hear of my plan, they'll have no choice but to come to the base! And with them here, I can employ stage two of my INGENIOUS plan! Yes, stage two, which is…"

"WOO! STAGE TWO!" GIR squealed, throwing a taco across the room in excitement. Of course, the taco landed on the camera and the sauce short-circuited it. Dib stared at the snow onscreen, his mouth hanging open. He _had_ to find out what Zim's plan was. If he was going to bring his leaders to Earth, it must be important, and the demise of Mr. Raise must have something to do with it. The door opened and Dib glanced up from the screen to see his father standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Dad," he mumbled, but the professor didn't seem to notice his son's unenthusiastic greeting, and strode into the kitchen without a second glance. He had seemed busier than usual these past few months, and Dib and Gaz had seen even less of him than usual. Still, now that Zim was murdering people, Dib had something to take his mind off the absence of his father. He resolved to confront Zim when they walked to school the next day.

However, it was not to be. Dib left the house at the usual time and slowed down when he reached the alien's house, but Zim didn't burst from the door like he usually did. Dib hung back for as long as possible, but eventually he had to go, or he would have been late. Hurrying down the school corridor, he barely gave the science classroom that was now closed up with police line tape a second glance.

He rushed to his first lesson; religious education, and only just got to his seat on time. Emma was already in her seat, showing just how late he was, but the teacher hadn't arrived yet. Zim was in the seat next to her, and he gave Dib a twisted smirk as he sat down. The teacher, Ms Cross, swept into the room, her long black dress swinging around her plump frame like a cloud of smoke. She was short and round, with startlingly pale skin and a ton of black eyeliner and powder around her beady dark eyes. She looked like a panda in a wig. It was said that her husband had died ten years ago and she was still in mourning. Dib often wondered if it was still possible to dress how you wanted without having excuses made for it.

"Well, it's nice to see you're all here on time," she said, and the class fell silent. She had the talent of being able to get the attention of her pupils without having to raise her voice. "Now then. Pack your things away and line up by the door, please. Today you'll be going on an all-day field trip. We're going to the local church so you can gather information and photos or sketches for your projects."

There was a collective groan, and she gave the class a sympathetic smile. Zim, on the other hand seemed excited about going. Religious education was one of the few subjects he actually listened in, totally absorbed in learning about the many gods that the humans worshipped, their different rituals, and trying to work out how he could use this against them. To actually enter a place of worship would help his mission no end, and they were leading him to the door! It was all too easy. Listening to Ms Cross reading passages from a book known as 'The Bible' also captivated him. Stories of men thrown into pits of lions, floods wiping out the entire planet save the creatures on their 'arc' and the most interesting of all… A human that possessed powers that could have saved the human race. Surely they should have worshipped him, but they nailed him to a wooden cross and left him to die. Humans were curious creatures, and so difficult to understand.

The school bus had broken down, so the class was forced to walk to the church. Whilst Dib found this extremely annoying, Emma wasn't as fussed, though all the other kids complained about walking in the cold. Dib thought this was strange; it was a freezing December morning and she was wearing a short black skirt, with only her neon green legwarmers to ward off the chill. The cold didn't seem to bother her at all. The green tank top under her black jacket proclaimed 'ALIENS EXIST' in bold black lettering. Other people's opinions didn't seem to bother her either. She had a serious, sleepy expression on her face that suggested that she had stayed up all night and was trying to keep her eyes from closing now.

"Stargazing again?" Dib asked quietly as they marched down the street among the line of teenagers. She looked up and yawned.

"Nope. I stayed up all night trying to decipher that note you got. I don't think it's anything to do with Mr Raise _or_ Zim; it's just a load of gibberish. Don't worry about it."

"But that's just it, Emma, I heard Zim talking about a plan in his base last night," Dib said, and recounted what he had heard. Emma simply rolled her eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Dib, how many plans has Zim had so far? We both know they've all been pure crap, and the chances are that Zim's leaders know so too," she laughed, before adding in a more serious voice, "Look, the police are on the case. No matter how clueless they are, they always get their guy eventually. And if, by some miracle, it turns out to be Zim, well, he'll be exposed, won't he?"

Dib sighed. He wanted to argue back, to remind her that Zim had been sitting alone in the classroom with the corpse, to tell her that _he_ wanted to expose Zim and wasn't about to let some wannabe cop get all the glory, but he didn't want her to go against him as well. She was the only person in the whole school that didn't question his sanity, at least not on a regular basis. They reached the church.

Walking through the majestic wooden door, Dib glanced around the church, taking a few unenthusiastic photos and trudging around indifferently with Emma. Zim darted around, taking photos with a huge old-fashioned camera for show, but scanning everything with his PAK to get a 3D image of the church. Dib had to admire how efficiently he did it all. It reminded him that whilst he was dealing with the incompetent idiot that Emma saw Zim as, he was an idiot with advanced technology at his disposal.

The day dragged on, and Dib found himself numb with cold; the church's heating system was antique, and the building was very draughty. Zim was still zipping back and forth, asking the strangest of questions to the bemused reverend and chuckling evilly to himself as he found out what he wanted to know. At the end of the day, he seemed reluctant to leave, and hung around at the back of the line, glancing at the church over his shoulder as they trooped back to the school. It was beginning to get dark, seemingly even earlier than usual this winter. Dib couldn't help but wonder what it was that Zim wanted from the church.

They got back to the school just in time for the bell to ring, and the class scattered at once, running home to get warm after a long day in the cold. Emma melted into the crowd after a quick goodbye to Dib, and Zim set off in the opposite direction to his house. Curious. Dib followed him, and they went back down the hill towards the church again. He caught up with the invader as he went through the doors, but hung around at the back of the church, wanting to see what Zim was going to do. To his disappointment, Zim simply continued asking questions to the reverend.

"Bible-human! What is the purpose of this liquid?" Zim barked, and the old man smiled.

"My, my, it's so wonderful to see young people so curious about religion! The font contains holy water, which I use for the purpose of baptism."

"I see…" Zim mused, "And this… holy water. It is different to the normal water on this planet?"

"Why yes, for this water is blessed by the…"

But the reverend was cut off by a terrible shriek as Zim dipped his finger into the font out of curiosity. His mouth fell open and he took a step backwards as he saw the smoke rising from Zim's gloved skin.

"It burns!" Zim gasped, and the old man swallowed deeply.

"St… Stay there, my child," the reverend stuttered, "You need help."

Zim raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The burning had already stopped, but the reverend had hurried off into another room. Dib, who had been skulking around the side of the church in the shadows, now sprinted through the door after him. The reverend was pulling on a long white robe and a purple stole. There was a thin slither of mirror on the wall, and when the old man saw Dib's reflection behind his, he jumped and whipped around.

"Oh, thank goodness," he said, breathing heavily, "My child, you shouldn't be back here! And I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to leave. I need to be alone with the young man through there."

Dib looked at the reverend properly. He was short and horrendously thin, skeletal even. He had a dusting of white hair on his head, as though a cobweb had become stuck to it, white, translucent skin and quivering grey lips. He looked as though he were being kept alive on faith alone. His eyes were a lush, vibrant green, the only colour left in him.

"What are you planning to do with Zim?" Dib asked curiously.

"I… shouldn't really tell you. But I suppose if you know him personally, you should know. I'm afraid your friend is about to take part in an exorcism."

"B… Why?" Dib spluttered, taken aback by this information.

"Ah, poor child, you did not see as I did the way that the holy water burns his skin. He is clearly possessed, and it is my duty to release him," he replied kindly, and Dib laughed. The reverend seemed shocked by his reaction, so he stopped to explain.

"It's not because he's possessed that the water burns him. It's because he's an alien; all water burns his skin," Dib said knowledgeably, and the old man gave him a disapproving look.

"This is no time for games, young man; your friend's life hangs in the balance!"

"He's not my friend, he's an alien, you don't need to do anything. You don't need to exorcise him," Dib said, and the man shook his head angrily.

"You would damn his soul because he isn't your friend? That's hardly an attitude the Lord takes kindly to!"

"But I can prove it to you!" Dib said urgently, and the revered swept past him, still shaking his head. "FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!" he shouted, exasperated, to the old man's back, and he turned as though stung.

"I'll not have you taking the Lord's name in vain in his own house! Leave!" he said, in a raised, trembling voice, and Dib stormed from the church with an angry growl. The revered turned to Zim, who was observing the scene with an amused smirk on his face. He took a cup and filled it with holy water from the font, advancing slowly and calmly towards the alien, murmuring a prayer under his breath.

As Dib stomped furiously up the hill, the sound of further shrieking from the church only barely lightened his mood. He couldn't believe how close he had come to exposing Zim, how yet again the chance had slipped through his fingers. He got home, to find it empty but for Gaz. She was playing her Gameslave as per usual, and paid him no heed. He went upstairs to dump his heavy schoolbag in his room, and then trudged back down to the kitchen. The window was smashed, a cold wind was blowing through, and there was a note written on the fridge in magnetic letters.

_The alien is within his gates._

Dib gasped and ran to the door. Somebody had broken in and left a message, and he could only think of one thing it might mean.

"Gaz, I'm going out," he said quickly as he hurried past.

"Where?" she grunted indifferently.

"The church!" he shouted, already at the gate. He sprinted down the hill.

**AN**

**Please review. I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but my computer's been acting up recently. I'll update as soon as possible.**

**I don't own Invader Zim; it is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I do own Emma Dribben, Ms Cross and the reverend.**


	4. Faith Is Not Enough

Chapter 4

Faith Is Not Enough

It was only when Dib was running to the church that he reflected on how fast time seemed to escape him. By the time he reached the crumbly old building, it was almost pitch black. Of course, it got dark quickly in this area anyway, but it seemed to Dib that somebody had just flicked a switch and turned off the sun (something that Zim often threatened to do in the summer when the heat was unbearable). The church stood like a beacon in the gloom, a soft, flickering light shining through the stained glass windows. He wrapped his fingers around the numbingly cold iron handle and rattled it. It was locked. He pounded on the door, but there was no answer.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Dib called, wondering if the lights were from a fire. The heavy oak door wouldn't let any smoke out. Again, there was no answer, so he started to walk around the side, to see if there was another door. A crunching noise under his feet made him glance down. There was a large quantity of red glass, and as he looked around he saw more chunks of glass strewn across the lawn by the church. He slowly raised his head to see an enormous glass window depicting an angel slaying a large and terrible looking demon. Or it would have, had it not been for the large hole that had been smashed straight through it.

He ran up to the building and saw deep grooves scratched into the stone. The image of Zim, elevated on the robotic legs he had in his PAK, smashing through and climbing down the building flashed in front of his eyes. There was thick ivy snaking its way up the side of the building, and before Dib knew what he was doing he was climbing up. Some of the thick stone slabs that the church was built of jutted out, and provided footholds. He balanced on the jutting ledge under the window and it was only now that he wondered how he was going to climb down inside. He decided to jump, and pray that there wasn't any shattered glass on the floor inside.

The hole in the window had large shards of glass sticking out, a gaping mouth with carnivorous fangs. Dib climbed through carefully, but the inside ledge was wet and slimy. He slipped as he put a foot on it and landed on his face on the cold, hard floor. He felt his nose crunch as it took the full weight of his head, and then there was a coppery smell and a hot wetness on his face. He stood up slowly and touched his nose gingerly. His fingers were crimson when he took them away. He looked around.

The church was lit with flickering candles, sweating wax onto their holders. These were the eerily pulsing glow he had seen in the window. Parts of the room were pitch-black due to the distribution of the candles. The wind was blowing in through the smashed window and sending them into a flickering frenzy. Close to the font was a large puddle of water, and from this there spread a trail of water droplets leading up to the smashed window. Zim had evidently been soaking wet when he escaped. He hoped the alien had been in a lot of pain.

Dib looked over to the altar and the pit of his stomach tightened. The pastor was kneeling awkwardly at the altar with his head bowed. He seemed to be praying deeply. Dib walked slowly towards him, and as he drew closer he saw that the man wasn't kneeling, he was slumped against it, as though he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. He was so thin that Dib could see a large bump through the back of his robe, where his spine bent. He tapped the bony shoulder, but the reverend didn't move. He was cold as ice. He planted his hands on the man's shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. His head flopped backwards on his neck and the old man's green eyes stared into Dib's. There was no life in those eyes.

Dib let go of the man's shoulders in shock and he fell over backwards. Sticking out of his stomach was a long arrow, blood blossoming across the white alb he had worn to exorcise Zim. It was only now that Dib realised that the awkward bump on the man's back was the tip of the arrow poking through. He backed away, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth.

The reverend's skeletal, unhealthy appearance made him look as though he had been dead for some time, but Dib knew it could only have been ten to fifteen minutes. There were several scraped, watery footprints leading up to his body, and the image of Zim stabbing him, escaping whilst he dragged himself to the altar to pray one last time, was sickening. If the reverend had been kept alive on faith alone, it was clear that faith was not enough. He hurried over to the door, planning to go for help.

"I wish Emma were here," he muttered, and he unlocked the heavy door and pulled it open. Emma was standing the other side, her fist raised, about to knock on the door.

"Dib!" she gasped, "I went to your house; saw the note on the fridge… I got the biblical reference; I knew you'd go here and… Oh God…"

She had looked over his shoulder to the corpse of the reverend. Her face, previously flushed from running, paled instantly, the cat-like pupils of her grey eyes shrank to pin-pricks, as though they were running from the sight. She looked around the church, saw the puddle of water, the smashed window. The blood on Dib's face.

"He was like that when I got here," Dib said quickly, in case she asked him what he was doing at the scene of a murder covered in blood.

"What happened?" she asked in a low voice.

"I followed Zim back here, he was asking questions and he got holy water on him. _He_," he gestured violently at the reverend with his thumb over his shoulder, "thought Zim was possessed. He wanted to exorcise Zim, I tried to explain and he threw me out. That note was on the fridge, and when I got back here, I found this. And I hurt my nose, but you never asked about that."

Emma's eyes narrowed, staring determinedly at Dib's bloody nose and away from the corpse.

"What happened to your nose?"

"I climbed through the window and slipped. I think it's broken," he said, sounding sorry for himself despite everything.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was distracted by the dead body over there. Are you hurt?" Emma asked sarcastically, as he knew she would. He gave her a small smile, and she rolled her eyes as she always did.

"So. We call the police, and get them to track down Zim," Dib began, but she shook her head.

"No. We call the police. I think you may have been right about the note, Dib, but I stand by what I said. This _isn't_ Zim."

"Why don't you ever have faith in what I say?" Dib sounded hurt, but she gave him an icy look.

"Sometimes faith isn't enough," she said.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**I own only Emma Dribben and the reverend. Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.**


	5. Under My Skin

Chapter Four

Under My Skin

"For the last time, Dib, Zim is _innocent_! Why can't you let this go? Can't you see how unlikely this is?"

Emma was getting exasperated as Dib continued to argue with her about Zim. The police, upon clearing the body away, had been very suspicious of Dib, having seen him at two murder scenes now, and so he was determined to make people see that it wasn't him.

"No, Emma, think about it! Mr. Raise, killed by the magnets attracting his desk. Who is in the room with his body? Zim," Dib said in a slightly shaky voice, before continuing at a more determined pace, "The reverend, impaled on an arrow. Who was he attempting to exorcise, who was he unwittingly torturing before his death? _Zim_!"

"Now you think about it, Dib. Think properly. Say Zim was in the room at the start of the day, and the murder happened right in front of his eyes," Emma began calmly, her own eyes shining earnestly, "He wouldn't have tried to save Mr Raise, but he wouldn't have killed him. Now say that during the 'exorcism', Zim escaped in hysterics from the church, and the murderer slipped in afterwards? And even if you stick by your story, explain to me why Zim would be carrying an arrow around with him."

"He carries an _organ-harvester_, Emma, who knows what else…"

"So why didn't he use a more hi-tech method to kill him? You say the message was on your fridge when you got home, and yet Zim wouldn't have been able to write it there, would he?"

Dib opened his mouth, looking as though he were about to say something, but stopped. Emma grinned, her eyes glittering. She had him here; for once Dib was at a loss for words. He sighed. People had been ridiculing what he said for years, and he had never thought twice about what they said. It was only the calm, logical way that Emma picked his exclamations apart that made him doubt himself, and the fact that she said it in a patient tone made it all the worse. If she had sneered at him like all the others, he would have felt superior to her, but this way he almost felt stupid. It was the tone that he heard Zim using when he explained something to GIR. Then he grinned back.

"He could've got his robot to write it! He has a communicator in his PAK; I've seen him use it," Dib said triumphantly, and Emma looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I guess so… But that robot's obviously screwed up, Dib, it probably wouldn't do it right… it probably wouldn't do it at all," she said decisively, tossing her long, straggly hair from her eyes as a horse flicks flies away from its face. As usual, it was a mess, but she could never be bothered to fix it, unlike the other girls in their class, who brushed their shiny, sleek hair whether they needed to or not. Even Dib was more self-conscious about his appearance than she was, ensuring that every single hair was gelled into place each morning. Emma, however, said there were more important things on her mind than her hair, that she brushed it once in the morning and left it at that. Dib would always reply, with a smirk, that that much was obvious, and would receive a gentle thump on the shoulder. However, he wasn't in the mood to tease her today.

"You admitted I was right about the note, Em, why not Zim?" Dib said in a wheedling voice as they walked back up the hill. She narrowed her eyes.

"Call me 'Em' again, Dib, and the police'll be investigating another murder. One that they'll _have_ to interview me about," she added, and he nodded slightly. Yet again the police officer had ignored her. "As though I couldn't _possibly_ be capable of murder. People in this neighbourhood are so sexist," she had spat afterwards in a bitter tone.

They stopped at Dib's gate, and Emma smiled kindly at him. Again, patronising him without realising it, Dib thought. It annoyed him. A lot.

"Don't grin like that, _Em_," he said, smirking as the smile was wiped from her face.

"I told you not to call me that, I hate it! And I hate the way you always go on about Zim! Each time you say something about him you cut yourself off from all the sane people," she hissed. Dib's eyes widened. Emma had never said anything like this before.

"I'm sorry if I'm so insane that I'm worried about the future of mankind," he said darkly, and she sighed.

"That came out wrong, I'm sorry," she said, and this time the kind tone seemed genuine. "You just seem a little _too_ obsessed; you say things without thinking them through," she said, with a roll of her eyes, and she hugged him.

Considering how cold it was, she was surprisingly warm, hot even, but Dib was more surprised at the hug. Nobody had ever hugged him before, apart from his mom. But she was dead, so she was no good. He didn't want her to let go, in the hopes that someone from hi-skool would see him hugging a girl, but she did, and the cold hit him again. She turned to leave, and he caught her hand, and a jolt of warmth spread up his arm. His breath caught in his throat.

"I… you… look…" he stuttered, and she grinned.

"I've gotta go, Dib," she said, "Sorry about stressing out. It was just a nickname, I suppose. And just so you know, I wouldn't hang out with you if you weren't a little insane."

"See you later, Emmy," he said, in a teasing, sing-song voice, trying to sound as though he hadn't seen what he thought he had seen. Emma's eyes narrowed again.

"See you later, Dibbles," she laughed, walking down the street.

Dib walked to his door at a controlled pace, but the second he had closed it behind him he sprinted to his room and collapsed onto the bed. Emma was right. He was insane. He had to be. Because what he had just seen was so bizarre that had it not happened in front of his eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. Just as he was considering it, there was a knock at the door. One sharp smack; Gaz's knock. She opened the door without waiting for a reply.

"Where did you go," she asked abruptly, "You missed tea. You've been gone ages."

Dib explained about the murder and how he had called the police. However, he omitted the part about Zim. Gaz wouldn't understand either, that he knew. She raised her eyebrows and left the room, muttering a gruff 'goodnight' as she slammed the door. Until she had said it, Dib hadn't realised how late it was, how tired he was. He barely had time to change into his pyjamas before he was sucked into a strange dream.

_He was running through a forest, the trees barely more than a blur in the corner of his eye. The smell of rotting leaves was musky and overpowering; it was the stage between autumn and winter where the floor was a carpet of mushy, decomposing orange. He was running towards a light, a soft, faintly flickering light. It was coming from a clearing, and without knowing why he knew that it would protect him from _it_. The laughing came again, high, shrill and taunting. The collective laughter of a class of teenagers. As he ran faster, spurred on by the piercing sound, fingers pointed at him through gaps in the trees, accusing fingers that singled him out and cut into his skin like laser beams. The light pulsed again, beckoning to him, but as he drew closer he heard a crunching noise, and his feet were in agony; he was running barefoot on glass, but he had to keep going. He burst through the clearing and suddenly he was warm and safe and there were arms around him and his arms were around her; it was Emma and her smile glinted like a half moon. She reached out her hand and he took it, and the warmth shot through his veins. And her hand was in his. _In his_, under the skin, like a handshake from a ghost._

"_You're going to be late," she said softly, and he squeezed his eyes shut._

And when he opened them, the alarm clock was screaming at him. He had overslept. But the vision stayed in front of his eyes, like the image that emblazons itself over your vision after a camera flash. Emma's hand had sunk straight through his skin, and there was nothing he could do to shake it from his head.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update as soon as possible.**

**I apologise for the mistake with the chapter numbering in the previous chapter; I got it confused with a chapter from the novel I'm writing. **

**I own only Emma Dribben and the plot; Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.**


	6. Questions

Chapter Five

Questions

It was an odd sort of a morning, Dib figured, as he spread marmalade on the blackened toast that Gaz had produced. He had woken up extremely shaken, thinking about all that he had seen; corpses, notes and the phenomenon with Emma's hand. Next to his bed there had been a cup of coffee that was strong enough to take the roof off his mouth, which could only have been left by his sister. The professor would long since have gone to work. Though it made his eyes water, he had gulped down the thick, concentrated liquid and got dressed as usual.

The water was still cold, but Gaz wasn't. Upon entering the kitchen, she had turned around and pointed towards the table, where she had set him a place. The cremated toast sat on a plate, and there was a glass of orange juice next to it. Right now, she stood by the stove, cooking something that Dib could only discern as an egg dish due to the copious amounts of yolk and shell that coated the countertops. It was… creepy. Not normal. But not unwelcome either.

Dib ate the toast in silence, or at least, as silently as it is possible to chew on toast with the texture of dry plaster. Gaz seemed reluctant to speak as well, which only served to make the situation even more uncomfortable. Dib finished off the toast and listened to the sizzling of the mess of eggs that Gaz was cooking. He drummed his fingers on the table, watching as Gaz shook with silent, compressed irritation, wondering if she would tell him to stop it or whether she would continue to be nice to him.

She compromised with a silent death glare, and took the pan off the heat, walking over and scraping the contents onto his plate with an ominous _slop_. Dib looked at hard at it for a few minutes, trying to work out what he was supposed to be eating. It was like a hidden picture book. If he tilted his head and squinted, it resembled scrambled eggs, but if he slightly crossed his eyes it looked like an omelette that had refused to hold its shape.

Upon taking a bite, he found it to be, to his horror, a botched attempt at French toast. Swallowing the greasy, sloppy concoction, he looked up at Gaz and attempted an appreciative grin. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite manage it, but she seemed content that he had tried and sat down next to him.

"Thanks, Gaz, this is delic…" he began, and she cut over him sharply.

"Can it, Dib, it looks revolting," she said bluntly, "I want to know what's going on."

"What's going on with what?" Dib asked distractedly, as he tried hard to chew the rubbery breakfast.

"Murders," Gaz said, and he swallowed deeply, looking at her and waiting for her to continue. She didn't.

"Ah, well… What do you want to know about murders?" Dib asked nonchalantly, watching as her eyes narrowed slowly. He knew how dangerous it was to wind up Gaz, but he didn't want to answer any murder questions. Not when he had so many to ask himself.

"Dib, there have been two murders and you've been at both of them. It's not gonna be long before people start asking questions. You're unpopular enough as it is, this isn't gonna help."

"Since when did you care about what helps me?" he asked darkly, before adding, "And I wasn't the only person that turned up at both scenes. Emma was there too!"

"Who the hell is Emma?" Gaz asked, an eyebrow raised, and Dib swallowed another mouthful of the French toast indignantly.

"Emma! She's been round here loads of times. And she's my _friend_, Gaz, so I guess I'm not as unpopular as you think I am," he said stubbornly, gulping juice to rid his mouth of the taste of Gaz's cooking.

"So, what, d'you think Emma could've killed them?" Gaz asked, and Dib squirted the juice out of his nose in shock. Gaz smirked. "Wow. I've never squirted it to the other side of the table before."

"Y… You think _Emma_ killed them?" Dib spluttered, "I… she… you don't even know her! She's been round here loads of times and you haven't even looked up from your Gameslave long enough to catch a glimpse of her! What would you know?"

"You do think she killed them, or at least, you're thinking it now," Gaz said in a tauntingly superior tone, "Or you wouldn't act so defensive."

"Shut up, Gaz. I trust her. Anyway, anyone with a brain-stem can see that it was Zim who killed them." Dib said, surprising himself. He had never talked back to his sister so much as he had today, always biting his tongue for fear of losing a limb.

"Whatever," she replied, scraping back her chair and grabbing her bag before leaving for school. Just in time for the professor's floating screen to come into the room. On screen, Membrane looked around the kitchen with wide eyes.

"I hope you're going to clean up this mess, son," he said, before the screen turned off so he could get back to work. Dib looked around the bombsite that was once a kitchen and groaned. Just like Gaz to leave him with the washing up. He was going to be _so_ late…

Sprinting to school, his overly-heavy bag smacking relentlessly into the backs of his legs, Dib reflected that Gaz was probably right. He was still unpopular; he always had been, but he had figured that all of that was turning around. If, as she said, questions would be raised, which he thought more likely than not, then the people that talked to him at lunch would probably stop. If Emma stopped talking to him, then things would simply go back to square one. However, even as he thought this, another voice started to shout him down in his head. _Emma won't stop talking to you._

It was strange, he thought, that he was so certain of this. But it wasn't something he had decided; he felt as though he knew. Pure, logical knowledge, like a lesson that was fresh in his mind. Why he knew he couldn't say. But it was there, and no amount of questioning would get rid of it. Even when he stopped questioning, that voice questioned him. Gaz was right. He hadn't suspected Emma before. But he was thinking it now.

_She could have done, you know,_ the voice said; _she could have, and you know it._

"Shut up," he muttered aloud, repeating the answer he had given to Gaz. "I trust her. It was Zim."

_So you keep saying,_ the voice replied, _so you keep saying._

Dib groaned. If he was questioning his own theories, he dreaded what was to come at school. He was coming to the gates. He had missed first period. He rushed through the corridors to the science labs, grinning slightly at the thought of what lay in store. Dissection. Zim's least favourite of all lessons; after all, as he said, the beasts on this filthy dirtball were disgusting enough with their guts on the inside. If there was one thing that amused Dib, it was watching Zim attempting to sit through a dissection.

When he walked into the science lab, he found himself to be early. He sat down on his stool behind the heavy work station and looked around the silent classroom. Though it wasn't the same laboratory as the one where Mr Raise's corpse was discovered, it was set out to be almost identical on the inside. He glanced over to the heavy metal desk at the front and shuddered. It had been chained to the floor now, Dib noticed, but it was all too late. He had a feeling that the murderer, whoever it was, wouldn't be using the same method twice.

Now the sound of thundering feet and chatter swelled as people rushed to their next class. Emma and Zim walked in first, neither looking at the other. Emma waved to Dib and hurried over, and as she did so, Dib was able to take in the outfit she had chosen for that day. Whilst everyone else, including Dib, wore the same things day in, day out, Emma changed her clothes daily, and often changed her style daily as well. Some days she could come to school looking like an explosion in a stereotype factory, so eclectic were her choices in garments. Dib often wondered where she got her clothes from, and how she could afford them.

Today she was wearing slouchy black jeans that were baggy and hung low on her hips. The ends of the legs were torn and frayed, as they trailed on the floor slightly. She had a charcoal grey t-shirt with black musical notes on it, and beaten up converses on her feet. There was, to Dib's amusement, a backwards baseball cap on her head, and she was chewing pink bubblegum. There was, of course, eyeliner under her pale grey eyes. That was the only thing that she wore with every outfit, regardless of what she was wearing. She looked like she had come out of a time portal to the nineties.

"Hey, Dib!" she said as she sat down, "Like the baseball cap?"

"Yeah, whatever. Didn't you get told to take it off in the last lesson?" he asked, curious.

"Well, if you'd been there, you would've know, wouldn't you," she smiled.

As the teacher came in, she blew a huge pink bubble in front of her face, which popped loudly. To Dib's surprise, he didn't look up, didn't ask her what the hell she was doing, chewing gum in his lesson, and take that cap off, young lady. He didn't do anything. Emma, it seemed, could get away with murder... no, scratch that.

"Today we shall be dissecting lungs," the teacher droned, and Dib cleared his head by looking over to Zim, who had gone very pale. Ironic that the alien was fine with stuffing his body full of human organs, but not with cutting them up, Dib thought as he smirked at the look on Zim's face.

As the lungs were put down in front of them, however, Dib found that he had no intention of watching Zim's usual cringing, squirming act. He had a few questions of his own to ask Emma, and he intended to get the answers.

"Emma?" he began, and she looked up from the lung rather reluctantly.

"Yeah?"

"Erm... I have something I want to ask you," he said, not sure how to word it now that the question was on his tongue. There was a long pause.

"So... are you gonna ask it?" she said after a while, and he sighed. He might as well just come out with it, no matter how crazy it sounded.

"Yesterday your hand... Well, I grabbed it and I thought I saw... I did see... Your hand sank into mine. Like a ghost," he gabbled. There was another long silence, during which Emma looked at him contemplatively. Eventually she spoke.

"That's not a question," she said, and he smiled slightly.

"Well... Why did I see your hand sink into mine like a ghost?"

She opened her mouth, about to say something when there was a loud knock at the door. A tall blonde girl walked in, holding a large stack of pink flyers. The teacher looked up at her and she smiled vacantly.

"I've come with flyers about the Christmas ball," she said, fluttering eyelashes that were so heavily coated with mascara that Dib was surprised she could actually open her eyes.

The teacher sighed and nodded, as though he had heard it a hundred times before and nothing could surprise him. She flitted around the lab, handing out the flyers with an important air about her that Dib despised. Emma was missed out, and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Just because I'm the new kid doesn't mean I don't exist," she sighed, and Dib nodded in agreement. You were always the new kid until another new kid came along, everyone knew that. He slid his flyer between them so she could read it.

_The entertainment committee is proud to present:_

_**The annual Christmas ball!!!**_

_Come with your partner to dance your way into the start of the Christmas holidays. Refreshments will be provided._

_8:30 until 11:00_

She smiled slightly, and turned to Dib.

"My first dance at this school!" she exclaimed excitedly, and then fell silent, waiting patiently. Dib said nothing, and she looked slightly awkward. "So... I have a question for you, Dib. You wanna go with me?" 

Dib's eyes widened slightly.

"Are you sure you wanna go with me?" he asked, and she nodded.

"But just as friends," she added quickly, blushing furiously. Dib nodded back, looking at her and slightly smirking. He had never seen her blush before. They spent the rest of the lesson watching Zim and laughing.

It wasn't until break that Dib realised that she had never answered the question he had asked her.

**AN**

**Please review, and an update will be... whenever.**

**I apologise for the long delay in updating this, but I had to write a Christmas story for my friend, and when I came back to this, I found myself to be cursed with the one thing that makes me despise myself. Writer's block. I hate it, but hopefully I have cleared it up at last.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I only own Emma Dribben. **


	7. False Assumptions

Chapter Six

False Assumptions

Nervous glances. Hurried whispers. People shuffling out of his way, cringing if he looked at them. Dib walked down the corridor to go out into the school gardens as all of this flew over his head. And he knew that it was him that all of this was directed at; he'd had the same thing at Skool. He knew that the rumors had started again.

_Dib thinks Zim's an alien._

And yet, he hadn't said anything related to Zim being an alien for a while now. He didn't think this was it.

_Dib says Zim's the murderer._

But despite the fact that this was what he had been saying, nobody seemed to have questioned Zim. No, this couldn't be it either. Then it hit him.

_Dib _is _the murderer._

And suddenly, the air seemed thick with it, thick with the rumor that was itching on people's lips. Gaz had predicted that people would blame him, and they were. He couldn't deny that this was exactly what he had been expecting, but nonetheless it hurt that people would actually suspect this of him. He shoved the door open vehemently, suddenly angry that he was the one that everyone accused, Dib, the all-purpose scapegoat. He felt the door slam into something, or indeed, someone, and there was an angry cry.

"Jeez, look where you're going, jacka... D-Dib! I... sorry, man," Torque said nervously, scurrying off and avoiding eye contact. Dib sighed and stormed into the gardens. He sat down on a bench and stared moodily into space for a while.

"People are talking, aren't they, Emma?" he said presently, and she nodded absently, caught up in the book she had taken from her bag. He had barely seen her without it these past few days. He looked at the cover, where the author's name and the title were printed in spiky lettering. Animal Graveyard by Stefan Queen. The pages rustled beneath her fingers, sounding like yet another rumor whispered behind a locker door.

"I mean, I'm used to people talking about me; they used to all the time, but it's not as though they can really believe that I'm a murderer, can they?" Dib continued. Silence.

Then, "Stranger things have happened," Emma said, looking up from the milky pages.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively, and she closed the book and pushed her glasses up her nose slightly.

"Nothing. But, you know, people always talk, Dib, and they have to blame someone. You've been at all of the murder scenes, and no offense, but I have a suspicion that they think you're a little strange. You're the perfect candidate for a murder suspect."

_As are you_, Dib thought bitterly. "As is Zim," he said.

Emma shook her head, but said nothing. Across the garden, Zim sat on a bench, eating something that resembled strawberry pocky. Dib shot Zim a glare, which was instantly returned. After a few minutes of solid staring, Zim got up and strutted across the path towards them.

"Dib-Stink," he began poisonously, "I know what you've been doing."

"What?" Dib asked, slightly more defensively than he would have liked.

"You've been spreading rumors about me. Saying that I would waste my time picking off your pathetic peers. Well, it's lies! LIES, all of it!" It was here that a smug, stupid grin spread across his face. "And I found your camera."

Dib shrugged.

"It was broken anyway."

"I know things, Dib-Stink. Things about the teacher drone, things about that feeble bible-man. I know what happened to them..."

"I know it was you, Zim, so don't you try to deny it!" Dib spat.

Emma sighed next to him, and there was a long silence. Zim turned on his heel and stalked away and Dib turned to Emma.

"Y'know, even if you don't believe me, it would be nice to have you back me up in front of Zim," he began, and she smiled weakly at him.

"It wasn't that. I was just thinking that you two are so alike that, if the circumstances were different, you'd probably be friends, is all."

Dib practically swallowed his tongue.

"What?!? Friends? Me, friends with Zim?!? You have got to be kidding, Emma. We're nothing alike!"

"Oh really? You and Zim are both outcasts. You both consider yourselves superior to the humans. In a way, I guess you are superior. You're intellectually superior, Zim's just... Zim. If you were on the same side, you'd both learn so much."

"Emma, I'd rather die than be friends with Zim. Well, to be honest, I'd rather Zim died than be friends with me. And I don't consider myself superior to all humans... Not you, at least."

There was a stifled giggle behind them and they both whipped around to see Zita standing right behind them. She was looking at Dib, seemingly fascinated by what she saw. She was completely unabashed to have been caught eavesdropping. In fact, she seemed more embarrassed to be seen near Dib.

"Who're you talking to, Dib?" she giggled, and Dib raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards Emma. Another explosive giggle. Emma narrowed her eyes.

Zita practically skipped off, more stories to tell about Dib already buzzing on her lips. She bumped into Gaz, who said something to her. Zita replied, looking slightly disconcerted, and Gaz muttered something else, her face darkening. Zita backed away and ran off in the opposite direction. Dib raised his hand in recognition to his sister, and she nodded back before storming off to find a shady spot to play her GS3.

"What do you think Gaz said to her?" Emma smirked, and Dib grinned.

"I don't think I'd be comfortable repeating it," he replied. This was a half-truth. Dib certainly found some of Gaz's threats extremely disturbing, to say the least.

"I wonder what Zim knows about the murders," Emma said thoughtfully, but this time Dib didn't bother replying that he obviously knew a lot, since he executed them. The day dragged on at a snail's pace.

Walking home, Dib sighed. He hadn't found out anything today; old questions remained unanswered and new ones had opened up. He had asked Gaz what Zita had said to her, and she simply glowered and clenched her jaw. He rubbed his eyes and then blinked. He had been out on the street the last time he had checked, and yet now he was in his room. His school bag was on the floor, spilling books and sheets of paper out on the floor. Strange, Dib thought, about how much his mind had been wandering lately. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he couldn't even remember coming into the room. He glanced at the clock.

It read; 5:04. But how could it have taken him so long to get home? The batteries must be shot, he decided, setting it right again. There was a note next to it, and he realised, to his horror, that it was comprised of newspaper letters pasted to the paper.

_False assumptions cause more damage than a bull in a china shop. But she won't tell a soul._

He read it over, confused. The he turned the paper over to find another pasted message on the other side. This comprised of whole words rather than letters, and the four words that were pasted there filled him with irrational dread.

_The Twelve Shall Unite_

He stumbled out of his room and went downstairs to get to the phone. He had to call Emma. Gaz was at the bottom of the stairs, watching him. Even as he clumsily jabbed at the buttons, he thought he saw a smirk on her face.

**AN**

**Please review! And I shall update, I promise. Another idea has come to me regarding the plot, and I'm refusing to let it slip away.**

**Jhonen Vasquez owns Invader Zim. Not me. I own Emma, however. **


	8. Horrorscopes

Chapter Seven

Horrorscopes

Dib sat at the table in the kitchen with a notepad. He had written down all of the clues that he had so far been given, and was waiting for Emma to arrive. He had asked Gaz to stay to try and help them, but she had simply grabbed her bag and walked out of the door, with no indication of where she was going. Dib was setting out a plate of Pop Tarts when Emma knocked sharply on the door. He wrenched it open and she hurried in, holding a magazine under her arm.

"What's that for?" Dib asked, and she put it down sheepishly.

"I was in the shop when you called. I wanted to check my horoscope," she replied, with a shrug.

"You believe in those?" he replied sceptically, and she simply shrugged again.

"I dunno... Sometimes they are right," she said, fingering the spine of the magazine with a slightly defensive look about her. Then she looked up. "You're a Capricorn, right? Same as me."

"Probably. Look, I wanted to show you this note I was given... The murderer came into the house again and..."

But Emma wasn't listening. She had opened the magazine to the horoscopes page, reading the prediction for Capricorn with interest. Dib sighed and looked at the paper, with its glossy, unnatural finish. It was covered in boxes, one for each star sign. There was a picture in each of the boxes. A water jug, a crab, some scales, a bull. He looked at the symbol for Capricorn with mounting curiosity. As though reading his mind, Emma pointed at it too.

"It's a weird one, isn't it? Like, all of the others at least have real things as symbols, and then you have Capricorn with this goat with a fish tail," she smirked, and Dib stopped in his tracks, grabbing his notebook and reading through the first message. His face simultaneously lit up and drained of all colour.

"What's up with you?" Emma asked, and he looked up from the paper triumphantly.

"I've worked it out. Emma, I've worked it out!" he said excitedly, shoving the paper under her nose. "Look! There are twelve zodiac signs, right? And they're all on here!"

Emma snatched the paper and read it through, eyes widening at some parts, and giving other lines puzzled looks. She read the other notes that Dib had been given, and finally looked up with her brow furrowed.

"You're gonna have to explain some of it to me, Dib. But I can see where you're coming from," she said, laying the paper flat.

"Okay. '_Beware, sea-goat__' _is a reference to me being a Capricorn. The battering _ram_ is Aries, the arrow is Sagittarius, the red rag is Taurus; like a red rag to a bull, the scales..."

"Okay, you've made your point," Emma interrupted, "But this doesn't give any clue as to _who_ is going to be killed, does it?"

Dib shook his head and turned back to the note. He had a horrible feeling that it was the murders that had been planned, not the victims. That the victims were simply selected for whatever reason, or maybe at random. In some ways, this made it even more chilling for him. But there was another thing that he had been thinking, an opinion that he didn't want to share with Emma. The murderer had to be someone that knew him, or someone that had been watching him. Not only did they know that he was a Capricorn, but they seemed to be trying to protect him, warn him about the murders. At the moment, she ticked both boxes.

Emma was still musing, though he hadn't been paying attention. "...And if you've worked it out, then my congratulations. But if you've got another note, doesn't that mean that somebody is being killed, or is already dead, right now?" she said.

Dib nodded slowly, and the door slammed open, sending icy gusts of wind into the kitchen and causing both Dib and Emma to jump a foot in the air. Gaz walked into the room with slow, deliberate footsteps, dusting her hands off on her top. She glanced up at Dib and nodded, almost awkwardly. Her eyes flitted across the table, from the two coffee cups to the Pop Tarts to the sheaves of paper that covered it. They rested on the magazine and her face twitched for a second. Then she grunted an unenthusiastic greeting and slunk from the room, taking the conversation with her. They sat in the awkward silence, both of them staring at the still open door. Dib looked at Emma's face and his jaw dropped.

"Oh, no. No, Emma, I know what you're thinking and..." he began, and she smiled slightly smugly.

"Then you're thinking it too. I know she's your sister, Dib, but that doesn't mean that she's not incapable. I think you'll probably agree that she's more capable than _me_."

Dib looked up sharply, and saw it in her eyes. A knowing glimmer. The way her mouth perked up slightly in one corner, the beginnings of a smug smirk. She nodded slightly, as though to confirm his thoughts.

"What do you..." he began, attempting nonchalance.

"I know you think it was me, Dib," she said, "I can tell. It's written all over your face. But you saw Gaz just now, and you saw the way she looked at Zita. It's okay if you don't believe me. I'll stick with you either way. So if you feel like going off to find the next victim any time soon, I suggest we search for Zita."

Dib looked from Emma to the door that Gaz had gone through. He bit his lip, and the silence became ever more crushing. There was a slightly hurt look on Emma's face, and he felt the doubts he had had about her wavering. He sighed and grabbed a scarf, stomping over to the door ostentatiously. Emma grinned and grabbed her bag. Though they had not discussed it, they both knew where they were headed for. Zita was one of the most popular girls in school; her house was known far and wide, and her parents were famous for not being in. Zita would be home alone. Or what was left of her.

The sun was already setting, snaking stealthily along the horizon, and the two walked hurriedly down the street. Their breath clouded up in front of them, and as they drew closer to the huge house that Zita lived in, Dib found that the pulses of mist that billowed from his mouth became more frequent. The house was dark and ominous. The light was on in an upstairs bedroom, a single square of gold amongst the black, but that was it. Dib's hands slipped on the shiny door-knocker. His palms were sweating. There was no reply, so he knocked again. They waited, and though he drew his hand up to knock for a third time, Emma stopped him.

"I don't think we're gonna get a reply," she said in a low voice, "If anyone hears you, it won't be Zita."

There was nothing that Dib could say in response. Emma was right. Blindingly realistic images flickered in his mind; Zita's body lying in a grisly pool of blood, a shady murderer with a sadistic grin, looking up at the sound of the knocking. Hiding behind a door when he hears them come in, ready to pounce... Dib stopped himself, placing a shaking hand on the door handle and turning it. The door was unlocked.

The door opened with no noise at all, and they walked in, closing it quietly behind them. The only light in the room was that of the streetlamps outside glowing through the window. Dib stumbled over to the light switch and flicked it, wincing at how bright the sudden light was. The porch that they were standing in instantly became a lot less threatening. There were coat hooks lining the wall, a rack for shoes and a large potted plant. The door that went into the next room was ajar. For some unknown reason, this troubled him. The only sound was his own breathing, simultaneously whisper-quiet and deafening. Eventually he cleared his throat.

"H...Hello? Is anybody there?" he croaked nervously, but there was no reply. A floorboard creaked upstairs.

Dib's eyes darted to the ceiling at the sound, and he moved defensively towards the door. Emma's chest was rising and falling in ragged, irregular breaths, but she made no noise. They both knew it, but neither wanted to admit it. They were not alone. After an age of silence, Dib decided to brave walking into the next room. He reached around the door, searching blindly for a light switch. His fingernails scrabbled ineffectually at the wallpaper, but eventually he found it, flicking it on. He pushed the door open with his foot and peered around it timidly.

There was nobody there, and whilst they had been in a small porch before, the room here was a large hallway with a beautiful staircase spiralling upstairs. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the wooden floor. Dib quickly stepped onto the thick Asian rug, which instantly cushioned the sharp sounds.

"I don't think anybody's here," Emma began, only to be cut off by another creak from upstairs.

"Well, I guess we'll have to go up there," Dib said nervously, looking up the spiral staircase with a sudden dread. Whatever was waiting at the top of those stairs would be able to see him, but would be invisible to him. Emma squeezed his hand, warming it up as she always did.

"There won't be anything up there," she said, as if she could read his mind, and he nodded, his face set, his heart pounding.

It was only when they were half-way up the stairs that they heard it. A thud. Then a long, ominous dragging sound. Dib's eyes darted to Emma, her face so pale it seemed to glow. He forced himself to take another step. Then he heard it again. The heavy _thud_ and the slow _draaaag_. It was only now that he realised the lunacy of the situation. They were in another person's house without permission, _looking_ for a body that it seemed more and more likely that they would find. Yet still he climbed the stairs, his fingers holding the banister so tightly that he could feel his nails scraping gouges into the wood. The noise, whatever it was, was building itself into an ever more steady rhythm, getting louder and louder as he climbed.

_Thud_, draaaag. _Thud_, draaaag. _THUD, _draaaag._ THUD, _DRAAAAG.

Dib reached the top of the stairs. The thudding stopped. Dib's heart beat a crazy rhythm in his chest, accelerating to an impossible speed as he felt eyes upon his back.

It stopped altogether when he heard the gurgling.

**AN**

**Please review! I shall update as soon as possible.**

**Emma belongs to me. Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. **

**This chapter was, indeed, influenced by an Urban Legend that I'm sure you'****ve all heard; the one about the babysitter that climbed the stairs with her arms chopped off, or something like that. I forget exactly. **


	9. Speechless

Chapter Eight

Speechless

Dib's blood ran cold as a clammy hand closed on his shoulder. Whoever... whatever was behind him, was gurgling deep in its throat; a sound like a drain. Emma reached the top of the stairs and froze, eyes bulging. She raised a trembling hand, pointing to whatever was touching him. He turned and shrieked a high falsetto note that he would be ever ashamed of later on. Zita was standing behind him.

Zita was one of the best known girls in Hi-Skool. She was rich and pretty, and it was for this reason that the people that hung around with her were referred to, by Dib and Emma, as the magnet club. Though they were poles apart from Zita, they gravitated towards her regardless. Most of the people that claimed to be her friends would never be seen dead with her had she not been so _Popular_. It seemed more likely now, however, that it would be she who would be seen dead with them.

The violet hair that she had long since grown down her back was tangled, sticking up at the back as though she had just rolled out of bed. Her skin looked sallow and taught against her face, as though there wasn't enough flesh under it, and her eyes rolled in terror as she looked at Dib. He pushed her away in fearful disgust, and her arms flailed helplessly towards her throat as she fell to the floor. It was then that Dib saw what was preventing her from crying out.

Someone had slit her throat, a vertical line of crimson with blood just beginning to dry around the corners. How was she still walking around, Dib thought, without really caring about the answer. Zita's fingers scrabbled at her neck, slipping into the slash. He looked closer and realised that it wasn't dried blood around the edges of that endless wound. It was material. She tried to say something, but all that she could manage was the same chilling gurgling. However, this time Dib could see her lips mouthing the same plea over and over.

_Help me. _

He already knew that she was past helping, and stood watching her writhe on the floorboards. Again her fingers touched the slit, and hooked onto the material. She pulled it from the slit in her throat like a tissue from a box and fresh terror passed over Dib. Someone had cut her throat and stuffed it with cloth. _A red rag_, he thought dismally, and looking at it, he could see that this much was certain. The cloth, regardless of its original colouration, was a terrible crimson now, clotted thickly with blood.

A fresh hand touched his shoulder, but Dib found that, partly to his relief, he could no longer scream. Whipping around, he saw Emma, her pallid face an unnatural shade of green-grey. Zita pulled herself to her feet shakily, blood trickling in freshets down her neck. She took stiff steps towards them, looking like some hideous zombie in a gory movie. Her lips still mouthed 'Help me' but this time air was forced through her throat, sending grisly flecks of blood spouting from the slash. One of them landed on Dib's glasses, bringing him back to reality.

He backed away, grabbing Emma's hand tightly and dragging her, too. She was still rooted to the spot. Zita continued to advance in shuffling steps towards them, tears flowing down her steadily purpling cheeks.

"C'mon, Emma, c'mon!" Dib groaned, tugging her arm, finding himself to be sobbing as well.

Zita moaned deep in her throat, and Emma snapped out of it, sprinting with Dib to the stairs. Even as they ran down the endless spiral, they could see the shadow on the wall, following them. They finally got to the bottom and ran to the door. Dib rattled the handle, but found it wouldn't open.

"It's locked!" he gasped, and as Emma grabbed the handle there was a throaty shriek behind them, followed by a series of sickly bumps. They turned.

Zita had tripped on the carpet of the stairs and had fallen, nearly from top to bottom. She lay limp on the floor with her arm twisted beneath her. She wasn't moving. Sobbing and shaking, Dib found that he had been pushing the door. He tugged it open and the two sprinted through the hall into the street, and didn't stop running until they had reached Dib's front door. As they collapsed onto the couch, Dib realised that he was drenched in sweat. He could taste bile in his mouth.

"What are we going to do, Emma? What are we going to do?" he sobbed, and she touched his hand gently. Her fringe stuck up in slick spikes.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," she whispered in a tremulous voice, "We're going to stay quiet. We're going to wait for Zita's parents to call the police. We're _not_ going to call them."

"Why?" he gasped, eyes widening.

"Dib, you know you're a suspect. This time, you can't blame you finding the body on your being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You _broke in_ to Zita's house. They'll lock you up for sure."

"But they'll find my fingerprints in the house," Dib moaned, and she shook her head. He looked down at his hands and saw his thick winter gloves there. It was so cold recently that he had taken to wearing them out of instinct.

Dib kneaded his eyes with his hands, watching the gaudy red and green explosions shooting up under the pressure. He knew Emma was right, but surely they needed to warn somebody? Surely it wasn't right for Zita's parents to come home to find their only daughter in a bloody, broken heap at the bottom of the stairs? Surely he was responsible for letting them know?

Dib was still thinking these thoughts when he climbed, trembling, into bed a few hours later. He didn't sleep a wink that night.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon!**

**Jeez, I kinda creeped myself out writing this chapter****, which is why it's kinda short.**** Hope I didn't scare anyone, or make anyone feel sick...**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. Emma belongs to me. **


	10. The Professor

Chapter Nine

The Professor

Dib turned to look the display of his alarm clock, which glowed brightly in the gloom. He counted down from ten under his breath, and when he reached '1' it exploded into shrill ringing. He turned it off wearily. He'd stayed awake all night. This was partly because he had been puzzling over everything that had happened and trying to make sense of it all. It was mainly because the things that he had seen were haunting him.

Like an incredibly boring lesson, they simply hadn't sunk in at the time, but now he was lying awake, jumping at every creak and drip that the house made, mutilated bodies flashing in front of his eyes. There had only been three murders so far. The note claimed that there would be twelve. What would he be like at the end of it? A creepy, withdraw teenager like Gaz? A gibbering wreck? A corpse, mouldering away in a coffin? Who would write his epitaph?

His dad? _Here lies Dib Membrane; my poor, insane son._

Gaz? _Here lies Dib Membrane, my annoying older brother._

Emma? _Here lies Dib Membrane. He was a little bit crazy. _

He smiled slightly and crawled out of bed into the cold shower as he always did. But today was Saturday. The best day of the week. He had the whole day to observe Zim and see what evil things he was doing. Maybe it could get him closer to seeing if Zim murdered the teacher, he pastor and Zita, or whether it was Gaz. Or Emma. He trudged sleepily down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was early. He might even see his dad, making toast before he went to work.

No such luck. The kitchen was empty. He made breakfast and took it into the living room, closing the door behind him. He jumped and dropped the glass of juice he was holding, sending a flurry of orange across the carpet and leaving a dark stain. Emma was sitting on the couch, grinning at the look of shock on his face.

"Way to go, butterfingers," she smirked, "You want some help clearing that up?"

"Y... You... What are you doing here?" he stuttered, and she rolled her eyes as he knew she would.

"I didn't want to walk home in the dark, not after seeing _that_," she said, "So I called my mum, told her I'd be crashing here. I slept on your couch."

"Thanks for checking to see if it'd be okay," Dib replied, grabbing paper towels to soak up the juice.

"You said your dad didn't even notice if _you_ were sleeping here. I figured he wouldn't mind if I did," she said, a slightly sympathetic tone to her voice.

Dib shrugged and sat on the couch, munching toast as they watched the episode of 'Mysterious Mysteries' that Dib had recorded. Emma said that she didn't believe that the poltergeist that they were investigating existed, Dib said he did, and they argued for the rest of the episode until it turned out to be some kids playing a prank on the cameras.

"Told you so," Emma said smugly. "Like I said, the location, combined with the history of the house meant that it was really unlikely that..."

"Know-it-all," Dib grinned, throwing a cushion from the couch at her.

"Gullible idiot," she replied amiably, throwing it back just as hard. They were cut off as the video recorder clicked off and the TV went back to its current broadcast. It was the news.

"...about the death of a fifteen year old girl. John Harbertson reports."

"Thank you, Julie. Police are currently investigating the murder of a young girl, found in her home by her parents last night. Whilst no fingerprints have been discovered, the police have informed us that they have discovered marks on the banisters containing fragments of blue material..."

"My gloves!" Dib gasped, and Emma sprinted over to the table where they lay. She grabbed them and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Gaz walked into the room. Emma sat down in a chair, looking at Gaz shyly. Gaz stared at the TV screen.

"That's that purple-haired _bitch's_ house," she grunted, and Dib nodded.

"T...There's been another murder, Gaz. Emma and I..." he began, only to see Emma shaking her head rapidly behind Gaz. She was waving her hands in a 'quit whilst you're alive' gesture. He bit his tongue. Gaz looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"She's dead?" she asked, and he simply nodded again. She shrugged and looked up the stairs. "You gonna clean up the box room, Dib? It _stinks_ in there."

"Oh no! It might be those alien spores I found in the park! If they've gone rotten I won't be able to dissect them and..."

But Gaz had already left the room. Dib ran up the stairs to the box room and opened the door, jumping in shock to see the Professor in there. His dad grunted an unenthusiastic greeting, and stood facing the wall. Dib found the spores. One of them had gone off, but he couldn't smell anything. He wondered what his dad was doing looking through all his paranormal stuff. Maybe he was taking an interest in his son for once. But he doubted it.

He went back down the stairs, throwing the spores into the incinerator in the basement. Emma came down and threw the gloves in. They stood together as the flames shot up, and Dib found his hand straying towards hers. He watched their fingers closely as they brushed together. She bit her nails, he noticed. He wondered, would her hand sink into his a second time? She saw him looking and stuffed her hands into her pockets. He gave her an awkward smile that she did not return. Eventually, Dib had to break the silence.

"Emma? What if the police think it's me?" he asked, and she stared into the flames, a moody shadow cast across her face.

"We'll run away together," she said, a slanted smile on her face. Dib couldn't decide whether she was joking or not. He voice sounded sarcastic, but her eyes looked serious. "We'll go to my place. You can meet my folks. We'll pack some stuff and head for the hills, live in the forest and study alien spores. We'll build a tree house and live off nuts and berries, and a rabbit or two, if we can catch them. Drink from limpid pools and sit around a campfire at night, singing songs with a badly-tuned guitar. We'll forget about them. We'll start a new life."

"You're kidding me, right?" Dib said uncertainly, and her smile broadened by a centimetre or two. She ran back up the stairs, and he followed her.

They ran out of the house and into the street, up the hill. Dib wasn't sure where Emma was taking him, but he was painfully aware that he was running out of breath. Emma ran tirelessly ahead until they reached the top of the hill. Then she stopped and looked in front of her. Ahead of them was a long, winding path, which lead to a large building that Dib had never seen, though he had called it up many times. It was the Dribben Observatory.

"You wanna come inside and look through the telescope?" she asked.

"Do I?!?" Dib exclaimed, and she burst out laughing.

"C'mon then! Oh, a word of warning. My mum and dad will be in there. The twins, too," Emma said, her face flushing.

"The twins?" Dib repeated, "You never said anything about brothers and sisters."

"You never asked," she smiled.

As they walked up the path, Emma explained that the family lived in the observatory, so that her father could work full time. The twins were the same age as Gaz. When Dib asked what they were called, she had muttered the names in an embarrassed voice.

"Damian and Desdemona," she had half-whispered, and Dib had snorted. "My mum lost her head when she named them," she laughed.

"No worse than Dib and Gazlene," Dib replied.

She opened the door and walked in, throwing her bag onto a table and shrugging off her jacket, hanging it on a peg. Dib followed at a snail's pace, looking in awe at all of the machines and equipment that littered the room. Emma placed her finger over her lips, and they tiptoed stealthily past the kitchen door... But not quite stealthily enough.

A shrill voice called from the kitchen in delight. "Em? Emma? Is that you?"

Emma cringed. "Yes, mum! I'm here with Dib; he wants to see the telescope."

"Well, for goodness sake's, bring the boy through! I've been dying to meet him," the voice called back.

Dib looked at Emma, and she shrugged sheepishly. They walked into the kitchen, where a short, stocky woman was stirring soup at the stove. She had hair the same colour as Emma's, and it was just as messy, piled into a ramshackle bun at the top of her head. She was wearing a pink apron.

"Hi, Mrs Dribben," Dib said, and her face broke into a rosy-cheeked grin.

"Hello, Dib! Emma's told me so much about you. She's so thrilled to have a friend at last, and..."

"Mum!" Emma interrupted, looking mortified, but she just cackled with laughter.

"Sorry, sweetheart, am I embarrassing you?" she asked, before calling shrilly, "Doug! Douglas! Come through, Emma's brought her friend back to see the telescope!"

The whole family more or less exploded into the room; Professor Douglas 'call me Doug' Dribben with his thinning hair and slightly hooked nose, Damian, an anaemic looking boy with black curls tight against his skull, and Desdemona, just as thin and pasty as her brother, with identical glossy black hair flowing down past her shoulders. Everyone seemed anxious to meet him, everyone was friendly, and everyone seemed to embarrass Emma. Dib couldn't understand why; he would give anything for a family like this. Emma's dad worked full time like his, but he was always there for her. Her mother was alive and her siblings looked up to her.

In fact, she had everything he didn't. The professor took Dib to the huge telescope and let him look through it, allowed him to assist in some of his work for a while and talked to him in a clipped British accent. Emma had started to pick up an American accent, but plummy English tones still hung around in her voice (Tom_ar_to, not tom_ay_to, Dib; it was our language first!), something that he had once teased her relentlessly about.

Unfortunately or not, there wasn't enough soup for Dib to be able to stay for dinner. He said that he ought to be getting home anyway, and walked out of the observatory waving over his shoulder, the chorus of goodbyes ringing in his ears. Gaz was waiting for him when he opened the door. She didn't greet him.

"Where the hell have you been," she demanded coldly, and for a split second, Dib thought he heard concern in her tone.

"What are you, my mom?" he replied with a half-grin.

"Oh, real mature Dib. Tell me you brought home pizza. There's no food in the house and I've been starving here all this time," she said, her eyes slitted.

"Why didn't you ask dad?" he replied, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't seen him in about... three months," she said, and Dib shrugged.

"I saw him upstairs earlier. He's probably gone now, though. Well, I've got some money if you're hungry, just call for a takeout. I'm going to bed."

As he walked up the stairs, he felt Gaz's eyes boring into the back of his neck. He turned and looked at her, mumbling a 'goodnight' that she returned blandly. As he passed the box room, he was certain he could hear his father mumbling to himself. He looked back down the stairs for a second, confused. Then, with another shrug, he continued to his bedroom. He dreamed that there had been enough soup, and that he had stayed at Emma's place, where he would pick up a British accent and spend his days watching TV with the twins, stargazing with Emma and helping the professor run the observatory.

Gaz sat downstairs on the couch, hugging a cushion to her chest. The smell was back. Well, actually, it was more of a stench. She had tried the box room door earlier, and it had been locked. Dib had cleaned it out, but he probably had some goofy paranormal stuff in there that he didn't want her to see, or possibly break. She was prone to breaking his stuff. And bones. But something wasn't right here. Dib had been acting even stranger than usual. It was all down to this Emma kid he'd apparently met a couple of months ago. Yes, something wasn't right here, and she intended to find out what it was.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. Emma Dribben and the rest of her family belong to me. **


	11. Zim’s Ingenious Plan

Chapter Ten

Zim's Ingenious Plan

Waking up early on Sundays was not unusual for Dib. Sunday was the last interruption-free day of the week for spying on Zim, and he didn't want to miss precious hours over something as trivial as sleep. Dib was especially glad that he had woken up so early this particular Sunday; however, as upon looking out of his window, he saw the alien in question walking down the street, glancing around for possible stalkers.

Dib closed the curtains and pulled on his trench coat hurriedly, sprinting down the stairs. However, when he pulled open the front door and saw his nemesis walking down the street, he found that he didn't know what to do. Should he follow him and see what he was up to, or go to his empty base? In the end, he opted to follow Zim to his destination, then double back when he reached it and go to the base. He ran along behind the invader, zigzagging across the road to hide behind trash cans and trees.

Luckily for Dib, Zim didn't go far. He headed into a small pharmacist's on the corner of the street. The second he walked in, Dib whipped around and began to run. He reached the base in double time, but he was purple in the face and hyperventilating when he opened the unlocked door. Zim's creepy little robot was jumping up and down on the couch. He turned his azure eyes towards Dib, and waved in greeting as he bounced. Dib raised his hand and gave a brief wave of his own.

"Hey there," he said, "I'm here to try and find out what Zim's evil plan is. You know anything?"

"Nuh-uh!" GIR replied cheerfully, "My masta just said that he's gotta go get pills. PILLS!!! Then the tall guys're gonna come, and my masta's gonna RULE THE WORLD!!!"

GIR exploded into giggles and landed on the couch, rolling around in mirth. Dib watched him for a while, an eyebrow raised. GIR looked up out of the window and gasped, pointing. Dib turned to see Zim walking up the path. He ran into the kitchen and crouched under the table, gesturing to GIR to be quiet. GIR saluted him, his eyes turning crimson. He sat rigidly on the couch, staring straight ahead. The door burst open.

"GIR! GIR! Your _brilliant_ master is home! And I bring boxes of the white stuff that is so vital to my _clever_ plan!" Zim announced ostentatiously. GIR looked up, his eyes reverting to cyan.

"MASTA!" he shrieked, "Guess what!?!"

Dib bit his tongue, praying that the robot wasn't going to rat him out. However, when Zim raised an eyebrow in inquiry, GIR simply shrugged and sat back down on the couch, turning on the television. Zim took from the paper bag he was carrying a box of paracetamol, opened it and popped the little white pills from the blisters of packaging they were kept in. As Dib watched, the invader placed one and chewed it, seemingly relishing the bitter taste.

"Foolish humans," he smirked, "They think they are helping to cure me of their revolting diseases, but they really supply me with _power_..."

Dib cursed himself for not thinking to bring a back up camera for the one that GIR broke. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, turning on the video camera and holding it up so that he could record the rest of the conversation. Zim turned on the communications screen in his living room and stood waiting for the Tallest to accept his call. Eventually the screen flickered into life, out of sight from Dib. Zim straightened up and saluted.

"Zim? H...How did you... you _grew!_" a high voice stuttered, and Zim positively beamed at the screen, as though he had been given the greatest compliment he could possible receive. Of course, for an Irken as short as he had once been, he had.

"My Tallest," Zim said, "I apologize for not calling sooner. In fact, it's been several Earth years since I last contacted you."

"No, really, don't apologize;" a new voice replied snidely, "In fact, it's been great."

"You see, I thought it would be safer not to call until I was certain that my _brilliant_ experimentations were safe," Zim explained, oblivious. He leant in towards the screen, a creepy, knowing grin on his face. "I have discovered the secret of height," he confided, and there was a collective gasp on the other line.

Dib drew closer with his camera, in order to work out what was going on. He knew enough from the conversation that he had just had to work out that Zim growing taller was not a normal occurrence for his species. His leaders, the Tallest, did not sound happy about it.

"How is this possible?" the snide voice was muttering.

"It's over! OVER! All over," the high-pitched voice was wailing, "He'll _overthrow_ us, Red, we'll have to serve _Zim_ and then..."

"QUIET, Pur!" the snide voice snapped, before continuing in a tone that was much politer than before, "Zim. How did you grow so tall?"

"Well, I could tell you..." Zim began, "But I'd rather _show_ you, in this handily-prepared presentation!"

Zim turned and pressed a button. A projector shone an image onto the wall opposite the communications screen, and Dib turned his camera to face it. A recording of Zim's voice declared: 'Zim's ingenious plan... OF INGENIOUSNESS!!!' and the voice of Tallest Red groaned. A rotating image of a box of pills appeared, and the contents were swallowed by a sick-looking human. Zim's narration explained that the humans were still relying on drugs and antibodies to cure themselves of their pathetic diseases. Some medicines were easily acquired and some had to be prescribed by a medical professional.

The animation showed an Irken swallowing the pills, before zooming in to show the workings of the Irken body. Zim continued to explain that he had tested a small sample of his DNA with human drugs, and found interesting results. Eventually, he worked his way up to consuming tiny amounts, and the affects were promising. The drugs reacted with his body and stimulated the release of hormones, causing him to grow at an extremely slow rate. However, larger doses increased the rate of growth, and he was able to grow to the same height as his classmates and continue to blend in.

"And so, to conclude," Zim said, switching off the presentation, "Zim rules all! I have discovered an unlimited source of pure HEIGHT! But, I'm willing to offer it to _you_, my Tallest. For a price..."

His face twisted into a smirk, and his eyes narrowed. Dib snaked his way out from under the table and tiptoed to the corner of the door, looking around the frame. The faces of Zim's leaders filled the screen, both with their mouths hanging open in dull disbelief. One of them was holding a doughnut half-way to his mouth, and appeared to have forgotten it was there. Eventually, the one in red spoke. His face had become a mask of utter loathing.

"You _slimy_ little... How DARE you..." he began, but seemed unable to put his outrage into words. He stared at Zim with bulging eyes, and then swallowed. "What price?" he croaked.

"A more important mission, and a more important role, considering my increased height," Zim said smugly.

"I want a purple chicken!!!" piped up GIR, and Zim considered it for a moment, before nodding.

"Yes. A purple chicken for GIR," he confirmed. "Come to my base, _my Tallest_, and we'll seal the deal."

And with that, Zim cut the transmission. He was smiling a self-assured smile, looking as though he believed he could stop the tide itself. He chuckled to himself as he walked over to the end table and went down to the laboratory below. His laughter echoed up the chute as Dib walked back through to the front door. Before he opened it, GIR trotted over and pulled at his sleeve, staring into his eyes with childish wonder.

"When will the monkey trip on the stair?" he asked, and Dib stared at him for a few seconds.

"The monkey won't trip, so don't despair," he replied philosophically, and GIR didn't giggle at the rhyme as Dib had expected, but instead he nodded slowly, full of understanding.

As Dib walked down the street, full of the rush that he got from sneaking into Zim's base unnoticed, he considered that he had formed a half-friendship with the robot that Zim called 'Gir'. He had snuck into the base many times before, and the robot seemed to enjoy his company. In fact, Gir almost seemed to be waiting for him to come. He had certainly never told his master about Dib's 'visits' to the base.

Dib sat down on the couch when he got home and watched the video on his phone, taking notes on Zim's behaviour in a black and white striped notebook. He didn't notice Gaz, standing in the doorway and watching him silently. He didn't even notice when she walked into the room and sat in a chair, staring at him as he replayed the video once, twice, three times. It was another two hours later before something caught his attention. There was a knock at the door. Dib looked up, jumping in his seat when he saw Gaz. She raised an eyebrow silently.

It was Emma at the door. She had opened it without waiting for Dib to come, rubbing her boots on the welcome mat and hanging up her jacket on the peg as though she lived there. She strolled into the living room and sat down next to Dib, and the rest of the evening was spent in a friendly argument over what to do about Zim's leaders. Dib certainly didn't notice the way that Gaz watched him with a puzzled expression and widened eyes, or the way that she slipped from the room to write in her diary. If he had, he might have seen something odd in her eyes. He might have seen wariness. He might have seen concern. If he'd looked closely, he might have seen fear.

**AN**

**Please ****review**** and I shall update soon. **

**I only own Emma Dribben. Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. **


	12. Black Monday

Chapter Eleven

Black Monday

Mondays. Dib hated them with a passion, but this particular Monday was made even less tolerable by the assembly in memory of Zita. Student after sobbing student came onto the stage to speak, and as the assembly drew on, Dib began to wish he had never rolled out of bed at all.

"...A-And she was the... the best f-friend I ever h-had," the final girl concluded. Her cheeks were flushed; her nose a shiny crimson colour, and as she burst into fresh floods of tears she had the appearance of an exploding fire hydrant.

As the headmistress gently led her from the stage, Dib felt with a growing anxiety that the whole school was looking at him. No, not looking at him. Glaring. He could feel contempt so pure in each of the piercing glares that it almost overrode the sorrow that hung in the air. Even some of the teachers were doing it, and this made it several times worse for Dib. If the teachers were becoming suspicious, then it was only a matter of time before somebody went to the authorities. They would send someone round to his house.

Though he wasn't completely sure why, Dib had a feeling that if somebody from the authorities wanted to talk to his father he and Gaz would be taken away. The Professor had been acting stranger and even more distant than usual. In fact, the last time Dib had seen his father, he had been in the spare room. He didn't think he had actually see him leave there since then, in fact, though God only knew what he was doing in there. Gaz claimed that she hadn't seen him for even longer than this.

_Three months it was three months ago something happened three months ago._

He couldn't think what it was, but he knew that this meant something somehow. As they left the assembly hall, Dib caught sight of Zim slipping away from the rest of the crowd. The first period was German, but he wasn't heading in that direction. He wasn't headed in the direction of the lockers either. Could this be part of his new plan? Dib watched as the alien headed for the gym. There was a fire escape close to the gym, Dib knew, and he wondered if Zim was planning on sneaking out of the building. More importantly, he wondered if it was worth trying to stop him.

"Because," he explained to Emma, "If he's getting his leaders to give him another job, he won't be on Earth anymore."

He hadn't told Emma that the other reason he wasn't as interested in what Zim was doing, but this was a matter of pride. He wasn't sure that it was Zim murdering people, but he would never admit it. He didn't want to admit that he was wrong about Zim, didn't want to admit that once again he had become obsessed in what he was doing. However, he had a feeling that she knew all of this, and plenty more besides. It was a thought that worried him immensely. He turned to her now as they walked to the classroom.

"They're looking again," he muttered, and she nodded silently, pushing her glasses up her nose slightly as she did so. Dib wished she had answered back. The ones that were looking were now staring curiously after him. He didn't blame them. It probably looked as though he was talking to a complete stranger, or somebody that didn't even know he was speaking to them.

"They think you're crazy," she noted eventually, and Dib sighed.

"But I'm not," he replied with the tone of a teacher that was explaining a principle to a particularly slow kid for the eighteenth time, "I'm not crazy, right?"

"How would I know?" Emma asked, smiling slightly when he pressed her again. "You're only crazy if _you_ say you are, Dib, how about that?"

He shrugged, walking into the German classroom to be met with silence. Somehow he was late, though he had followed the rest of the class out of the hall. Had he slowed down at some point? Dib had no idea. He mumbled an apology to the teacher before walking to his place. His seat was on the end of a row, where Emma sat on the corner of the table. As she'd only arrived three months ago there hadn't been enough seats for her. There wasn't a seat in her place now, so he found one for her, pulling it with a terrible scraping noise into position. The whole class were watching him with the same morbid fascination of the people in the corridor.

The lesson dragged on, and Dib absorbed himself in the exercise. _Choose a partner,_ Frau Cameron had written on the board, _and describe their appearance and personality. _Scribbling frantically, Dib found that he could easily write a page about Emma. Somehow, he didn't even have to look up; the thoughts came to him as though he were making up a character in a story. When he did glance up, Emma wasn't looking at him either. Neither was she writing anything down, she simply stared at the empty space where Zim ought to be sitting.

At the end of the lesson, Dib dropped his book into the box by the door to be marked. Emma simply walked out of the room. She hadn't done any work all lesson. When Dib caught up with her, she was looking out of a window into the gardens below.

"Zim," she said as he approached, pointing to the alien as he made his way across the gardens towards the gates. He was carrying a white paper bag.

"I'll go to his base tonight. To see if I can find out anything else about this plan of his, and when his leaders are coming. If I can get the authorities to his base when his leaders are there... then _nobody_ would think I'm crazy. They might even listen to me about the murders as well," Dib mused, his voice taking on a dreamy, far-away tone.

"Sounds great," Emma said, before leaning in and whispering hurriedly, "But wouldn't it make more sense to follow him _now_?"

Dib watched as Zim got closer to the gates, then nodded. As the rest of the class went off towards their science lesson, Dib made a huge show of pretending to have a migraine.

"Well, I guess I'd better go to the nurse," he said loudly, setting off in the direction of the gym. The nurse's office was next to the changing rooms.

As they walked past the nurse's office, Dib saw that there was a pile of white paper bags that looked just like the one Zim was carrying. Had Zim gone in to get more drugs? He tried to point this out to Emma, but she was far ahead of him, opening the fire escape. She looked around outside, checking to see if the coast was clear. Satisfied, she turned to him, mouthed 'come on' and practically sprinted out of the door. Dib followed, watching her chestnut hair streaming behind her. As they approached the gates, Dib realised how nervously excited he was. He had never done anything like this before, never even missed a class. This seemed to be second nature to Emma, who got away with anything and everything.

They were half way down the hill when the trouble started. The all-too familiar van came around the corner; it was Ms Cross, the RE teacher. She had obviously taken yet another break from teaching and driven out of school for a taco or six, and now that she was driving back to the school she was on the lookout. Probably for kids doing just what Dib was now. Her blackened eyes widened as she saw him, and Dib's breath caught in his chest.

"Oh _crap_," Emma gasped, starting to run faster. Dib stood, frozen for a second, and she turned back, exasperated. "_Dib!_ Come on!"

He ran. As he caught up with Emma he looked over his shoulder to see Ms Cross' car turning around slowly, and without thinking he ducked into the church, pulling Emma through the door by the back of her jacket. They pulled the heavy wood door behind them and turned around, staring into the empty church.

"Where is everyone?" Emma whispered, and Dib pointed towards the altar. There was a note.

_Gone out for a few minutes. Visitors please feel free to pray quietly until my return. __Reverend Parks_

Dib read it aloud, but in the same hushed voice that Emma had used. There was something strangely taboo about raising his voice in an empty church, and it wasn't so much that Dib didn't want to speak up, he simply found that he couldn't bring himself to. He glanced up to the hastily-boarded up window, where Zim had made his quick getaway. There was a small sign next to it, requesting that parishioners could give generously so that the church could afford to replace it. He fumbled a dollar from his pocket and dropped it into the box. Emma smiled, dropping in five dollars as though she was doing it simply to upstage him. A car pulled up outside and footsteps came up to the door.

"It's Ms Cross!" Dib whispered feverishly, making to sprint to the other side of the church, but Emma shook her head.

"What if it's just the new reverend? The note said he'd be coming back, it could be him!"

Dib bit his lip and ducked behind the door as it opened. The reverend looked straight through Emma as he walked into the church with a distracted expression on his face. He turned to see Dib and jumped.

"I'm sorry, young man, you startled me," he began, before giving him a strange look that was simultaneously shrewd and welcoming. "You're not skipping class to come and pray, are you?"

"No, we're skipping class to follow..." Emma began.

"Follow... In... God's footsteps," Dib continued, face flushing as he realised how lame that sounded. Emma seemed to agree here, and opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off as Dib stamped on her foot.

"_Mother of_..." she gasped, and, seeing the look on the reverend's face, she continued, "...pearl. Mother of pearl."

Dib looked uneasily at the young man's bemused expression as Emma stared fixedly at her feet. This was completely unlike her, to be embarrassed or at a loss for words. Somehow it made the situation even more uncomfortable, so he attempted a friendly smile.

"We're on a field trip over there," he said, gesturing vaguely outside the door, "And we thought we'd come in to give some money to the window fund, is all. Well... gotta go."

And with that they made their escape. Ms Cross' van was nowhere in sight, so they made their way off, Emma cursing all the way about how they had lost Zim, how Ms Cross was sure to have gone back to the school to tell the teachers to search for them, and how her foot hurt _so much_ you idiot, what the hell did you think you were doing, stamping on it like that? Dib listened distractedly, thinking instead that it was odd that though Emma was perfectly happy to sneak out of school, she seemed to have lost her nerve now they were out of the grounds. He, on the other hand, had found his nerve now, and wasn't planning on going back.

"I never said we'd be going back, did I?" Emma said waspishly, still sore about her foot, and Dib stared at her for a second. Had he been thinking aloud or talking to himself again? Since he had made friends with Emma, Dib never found that he was talking to himself anymore, though people still stared at him as though he was. Rather than asking Emma how she knew what he had been thinking, Dib set about looking for tracks to suggest where Zim had been. It wasn't hard. The bag that Zim had been carrying must have split at some point, and Dib soon found that he was following a trail of pills that had fallen on the floor.

"If we follow it, we'll catch up with him in no time," he said proudly.

"Or we'll just end up in an alley with a druggie," Emma returned cynically, but when questioned she could come up with no other suggestion, so on they went.

The trail went on, meandering around the streets and occasionally disappearing into pharmacies before continuing on. They ended up at the outskirts of the town nearly an hour later, tired and exasperated. The road ahead lead to the Dribben observatory. As Dib started along, wondering if Zim was paying Professor Doug Dribben a surprise visit, but before they got very far he heard the sound of Zim's footsteps coming back down the path. Zim was humming. Emma pulled Dib behind a tree, putting her finger to her lips, but Dib stamped on her foot again and leapt out on the unsuspecting alien.

"GAH!" Zim screeched, "Dib-Stink! What are you...?"

"What were you doing at the observatory?" Dib asked. From behind the tree, Emma shook her hands in a 'don't do anything stupid' gesture, and he narrowed his eyebrows.

"Observatory?" Zim began, and that was when Dib struck out, his fist coming into contact with Zim's eye, which, to his horror, depressed back into its socket before springing forwards.

Zim leapt forwards in a bizarre rugby-tackle, wrapping skinny arms around Dib's legs and pulling him down, muttering terrible sounding Irken curses as he did so. Dib kicked out, catching Zim under the chin and flipping over, swapping positions and placing his foot on Zim's throat, pushing down and grinding as though putting out a cigarette. Zim made a rasping, choking noise, before sliding mechanical spider legs from his PAK. He used them to propel himself forwards, forcing Dib into a tree. Zim held Dib up by the throat, taking out a laser gun. He placed it to Dib's temple, curling a claw around the trigger.

"NO!" Emma gasped, "No, don't shoot, we'll leave you alone!"

"Shut... up... Emma..." Dib choked, and a hugely disturbing grin spread across Zim's face.

"I win," he said.

**AN**

**Please ****review**** and I shall update as soon as possible.**

**I only own Emma Dribben and her family. Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. **


	13. Crucified

Chapter 12

Crucified

"I win," Zim said, and the world went fuzzy and distorted. Dib's eyes closed, seemingly of their own accord. All he would remember later would be a strange dream, which seemed to last for ages, though it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds.

_Running over the hill towards the Dribben Observatory, to find... Derelict Warehouse, nothing more than a few boxes and ancient nests of mice, a black and w__hite striped jotter... Open it __and there__ are__ newspaper clippings, hundreds of them, __and journal entries, but he won't read them, not now, not yet__... Calendar with a date circled in red, three months, it all happened three months ago, but that's another story... Emma standing in the doorway._

_"You're going to be late," she says, but he barely hears her. She's fading, evaporating, soon she'll disappear and it'll be too late to ask..._

"NO!" Emma screamed, leaping out from behind the tree, her face white and tense, "Don't shoot Dib, for the love of God, Zim, take Earth, just don't kill him!" Dib's eyes flew open and he could see again, with dreadful clarity.

"Shut up Emma!" he shouted back, staring at her despairing face. "I'd rather die than let Zim take Earth and you know..."

"SILENCE!!!" Zim screeched, and for once everyone obeyed him.

Dib looked steadily into the plastic glare of his violet contacts, almost calm despite the gun pointing towards his brain. Emma stood behind Zim, breathing deeply and shakily, tears welling up to fill her panicked eyes, though none of them spilled down her face. The sudden silence seemed to unnerve Zim, and he glanced over his shoulder to look at Emma. This seemed to unnerve him further, and his head snapped back to face Dib's.

"Run, Emma," Dib said quietly. Emma remained rooted to the spot, shaking her head slowly. Zim's eyes narrow.

"You're insane, dirt-child," he spat, a huge smile creeping on his face. "You're talking to thin..."

Without thinking, Dib kicked out. He didn't want the Irken to continue talking, though he wasn't quite sure why. His foot sank into Zim's midsection, throwing the alien backwards. As Zim smacked back onto the floor, the gun spiralled into the air. Zim scrambled to his feet, diving to try and retrieve the gun before it hit the floor. He missed, and the gun went off with an impressive green flash, sinking a laser beam straight through the Irken's arm. As Zim screeched, Dib ran. He looked over his shoulder to see Emma leaning over the wounded Irken, as though checking to see if he was okay.

"EMMA!" Dib yelled, and her head snapped up. She ran to follow him, but she glanced back with a reluctant expression at the writing, screeching Irken.

"Dib, I..." she began in a choked voice, but she trailed off when she saw his face.

"You were going to give up Earth. Hand it over to Zim, just like that!" Dib said, his voice rising furiously. "_You were going to see if he was alright!_"

"Dib, I didn't mean..." she attempted, and now the tears that had refused to fall before came in an alarming flood, shining on her face as they flowed down her cheeks. "...I just don't think I'm ready to die for Earth, Dib. Not when... Not when Earth won't care even if we do," she sobbed.

"You'd have mankind enslaved just because they don't understand something?" Dib noted darkly, and now she rounded on him.

"Look! It's different for you, Dib! I have a family! You think I don't worry about what would happen to them? Just like they worry about me. If I die, you ever wonder how they'd take it? But _no_, you don't understand that, because YOUR FAMILY DOESN'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT YOU!"

They stopped. Dib stared at Emma, and she stared at him. Dark red patches appeared on Dib's cheeks, though the rest of his face was white. Emma held his gaze with trembling eyes for a few more seconds before looking down with a choked sob.

"I know my family doesn't care," Dib said quietly, "I just thought that you did."

He turned and walked off, as fast as he dared, looking back only once. Emma had disappeared. Probably gone off to tend to Zim, he thought bitterly, and started to run. He didn't stop until he got to the town with a terrible stitch in his side. He leant against a wall, slumping down until he crouched on the floor. A car was driving down the street. It stopped in front of him, and Dib looked up. His heart stopped.

It wasn't a car, but a van. An all-too-familiar van. Ms Cross stepped out, her eyes narrowed. When she saw Dib properly, however, her expression morphed into concern and she heaved her plump body down to sit next to him. There was silence for a whole excruciating minute, but Dib was determined not to break it. Eventually, she spoke, not in her commanding teacher's voice, but in a softer tone. The question she asked was not the one Dib had been expecting.

"Do you like coffee?" she asked, and Dib looked up into her kind face.

"I... I guess so," he said. He had drunk so much of the stuff recently that he was used to the bitter taste.

"You wanna get a coffee? Then maybe you can explain to me why you're up here, sitting on the streets instead of in class," she said with a small smile before adding, "Do you need a tissue?"

Dib realised that he was crying and scrubbed his eyes with embarrassed fury. She struggled herself up and held out a hand to help Dib to his feet. He stared at her chubby fingers for a moment before standing up on his own. Wordlessly, she ushered him into a nearby coffee shop, ordered cappuccinos and sat him down on a couch. She sipped her drink and looked at Dib expectantly. Eventually he spoke.

"Zim went out of school. I just wanted to know where he was going, I guess," he said.

"You couldn't have just told a teacher and gone about the rest of your lessons?" she asked, with a knowing smile. He attempted to smile back before sucking the rest of the foam from his coffee. She sighed and continued. "So, then what? You looked... kinda defeated when I found you."

"I... kinda had an argument with my friend. I guess she wasn't as great as I thought she was," he mumbled, and she gave him a sympathetic nod.

"Sometimes that happens," she said, "But when it does, the best thing to do is to look at her and remember why you were friends with her in the first place." There was silence for a while, more comforting than the last one.

"Ms Cross?" Dib said suddenly, "You're not... Am I gonna get into a lot of trouble for this?"

"Tell you what," she replied with the air of a business woman about to offer a great deal, "I won't go to the school about this. You could get suspended. How about I go to your parents instead? You'll get into trouble at home, but at least you won't have anything down on your record."

"I..." Dib wasn't sure how to finish. In the end he nodded reluctantly. "What about Zim?"

"I don't think it's fair that you get away with it and he doesn't, do you?" she asked kindly. "Come on. I'll give you a lift home, and maybe I can talk to your dad now?"

"He'll be at work," Dib said quickly, feeling a guilty flush on his face. He didn't know why, because his dad _would_ be at work.

As the van pulled up outside his house, she gave him another encouraging smile.

"Just don't do it again, alright? I'll come round to speak to your dad tomorrow. See you later, Dib."

She drove off, and Dib stood and watched the van disappear, fear rolling in his gut. He wasn't worried about what his dad would say about him sneaking out of school. But he knew this much. If Ms Cross went to speak to his dad, it would be bad. Very bad indeed. He heard a small cough and whipped around. Emma was standing behind him, holding a box of chocolates. She was still crying.

**AN**

**Please**** review, if only to make me happy. I shall update soon.**

**I own Emma Dribben and Ms Cross. Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. **


	14. Melons and Lemons

Chapter 13

Melons and Lemons

"I don't want to talk to you, Emma," Dib said, turning his back on her. She walked in front of him, holding out the box of chocolates that she had brought with her as a peace offering.

"If you didn't want to talk to me, would I be here?" she asked, and he looked closely at her face, unsure whether it was a rhetorical question or not. She continued, "I'm really sorry about what I said. I do care; a hell of a lot. I guess I was just... I don't think I'm as strong as you want me to be, Dib, but I just don't think the Earth _deserves_ me to die for it. It certainly doesn't deserve _you_ dying for it."

Dib walked to the front door, stepping inside and closing it in Emma's face. He wondered why the house was so silent, but then he remembered that Gaz was still in school. He sighed, walking through to the kitchen. Emma was sitting at the table; the back door was open. She had simply walked in and sat down, as though he hadn't shut her out at all.

"Oh my God, Emma, go away!" Dib gasped, but he couldn't help laughing. It was like a cartoon... She grinned back and held out the chocolates. He still refused to take them, so she put them on the table and sat back in the chair. Eventually he sat down next to her and stared ahead, not quite wanting to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry I went to Zim as well," she continued, "I just thought that maybe it's not always Zim. Maybe he doesn't deserve everything that happens to him, just like you don't deserve all the stuff that's happening to you. I know we don't see eye to eye on everything, but maybe you might listen to me sometimes. I sure as hell listen to everything you say."

Dib didn't respond. He didn't really know how to, because she had said everything that he had been thinking already. But did he really even know what to think? Emma was his complete opposite when it came to Zim, Earth and the salvation thereof, and yet she seemed to be the only one that completely understood him about it. And yet, she cared about Zim. That much was obvious. How could he be friends with her, knowing that if the opportunity to put Zim on an autopsy table came around, Emma might try to help his nemesis?

_The best thing to do is to look at her and remember why you were friends with her in the first place._

Dib turned in his seat to look at Emma. She was staring at him, her grey eyes wide and shining. To his surprise, he couldn't remember why he was friends with her. She had come to town three months ago, and... He didn't even remember going over to her, or her coming over to him. They had just been friends, no questions required. But that didn't sound right.

Something else had happened, just before she had arrived, something had happened and she (_Thudathudathudathuda__ THUD) _had helped him, she had talked to him. They had talked a lot, and it made a change for Dib to be talking. Well, he'd had a few sort-of-maybe friends, people who talked to him at lunch, hadn't he? But once Emma came along they all stopped talking to him. So maybe the reason he was friends with Emma in the first place was because she was the only one who'd wanted to be friends with him in the first place. He picked up the box of chocolates and glanced at the label.

"We already have some of these," Dib muttered, trying to sound as though he still hadn't forgiven her. He went to the cupboard and opened it, peering inside. He sighed. "Oh, I guess Gaz must've eaten them, then. Thanks, I guess."

She smiled brilliantly, looking so genuinely pleased at his reluctant 'thank you' that he couldn't help but grin back. He put the box in the cupboard and sat back down with her, twiddling his thumbs in the silence. Emma took her jotter from her back and started to doodle on the page, drawing a caricature of Dib with an exaggerated head. Seeing what she was doing, Dib grabbed the page, ripping the page out.

"Hey!" Emma grinned, grabbing it back, "That's a masterpiece in progress!"

Dib made a snatch for it, knocking everything off the table as he did so. He looked down at the floor and let go of the page so suddenly that Emma went reeling backwards and fell off her chair, but he didn't notice that. He was too busy staring at the jotter that was on the floor. He had seen Emma writing in it before, and he had an identical one somewhere, but that wasn't where he recognised it from.

It was the black and white jotter that he had seen in the strange dream he'd had, the one that had been on the floor in the warehouse... the warehouse that had been where the Dribben observatory was supposed to be. He picked it up, staring at the cover for a few moments before Emma took it from him. The front door opened, and Gaz stormed into the house. She froze when she got to the kitchen, looking in at Dib with an eyebrow raised.

"Hey. How'd you get here so fast? I didn't even see you come out of school," she asked, in a tone that implied that she didn't care either way. Dib simply shrugged.

"Ms Cross is coming round tomorrow. She wants to speak to dad about something," he said, and her eyebrow rose even further.

"She'll be lucky," she murmured, "Dad hasn't come home in ages."

"Yeah, he has," Dib replied, "He was in the box room! I saw him."

"Oh yeah. You said you'd cleaned up in there, but it still stinks. And why did you lock the door?"

Dib was about to reply, but Gaz simply walked out of the room, sat on the couch and fired up her GS3. Instead, Dib went up the stairs and tried the room to the box room. Gaz was right; the door was locked, but he hadn't locked it. He could hear his Dad muttering to himself again. Maybe he had decided that the box room was an ideal place to study in peace or something. But surely he would have come out of there by now? But Gaz was wrong about one thing. He couldn't smell a thing. Emma came up the stairs and stopped next to him.

"Dib, if your dad's in there, I don't think you should bother him," she said gravely.

"What do you write in that notebook?" Dib asked, without turning round.

"Just... like, journal entries and stuff," she replied, almost edgily, "Why?"

"No reason," Dib replied. She had given the answer that he had been afraid of.

They went back down to the living room, sitting on the couch next to Gaz. She groaned and moved into another chair, groaning even louder when Dib turned on 'Mysterious Mysteries'. For some reason, the groaning made Emma laugh, and she had to stifle a giggle when Gaz looked up sharply. She glared at Dib, and then looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why does the fat teacher want to talk to dad?" she asked.

"I kinda snuck out of school today," he replied, without really looking at her.

"Oh, aren't you just the _coolest_," she said sarcastically, before adding, "But seriously. She's coming _here_?"

Dib nodded distractedly, staring at the television screen. Emma tugged his sleeve and pointed to Gaz's face. Dib looked over and bit his lip. Gaz looked simultaneously furious and worried, a terrifying combination. She left the room, staring at the two with another unreadable expression. Dib turned back to Emma, and she stared into his eyes seriously.

"Something's wrong with your dad, Dib," she said calmly.

"How do you know?" Dib snapped defensively, almost before she had finished speaking. "You haven't seen him since you came to the neighbourhood!"

"I know," she replied steadily, "He's locked himself in a box room and you hear him constantly mumbling to himself. That isn't something that you do if everything's okay, and you know it."

Dib sank back in his seat, staring numbly at the television screen. Sure, something was wrong with his dad. He didn't need Emma to tell him that. But he didn't want to do anything about it; he didn't want to get involved with his dad. The professor had said something, done something a while back that, though Dib couldn't remember what it was, had upset him enough to mean that he still felt sore about it now. His dad's problems were his own, just as Gaz kept her troubles to herself and he kept his worries bottled up inside.

It was easier to get along if you minded your own business and played your own hand. Always had been, and as far as Dib was concerned, in this family, that was how it would stay. And Emma could say nothing to change his mind about this, the one family motto that they all abided.

"You just don't want to admit you're scared," she said finally, "You're scared of what'll happen if Ms Cross comes round, but you don't admit it because..."

"Because _nothing_, Emma, just shut up!" Dib snapped, turning away from her.

"You don't admit it because you don't know _why_ you're scared. But I know why," she continued, as though he hadn't interrupted.

Dib turned back to face her and leant in towards her face, close enough to brush noses, close enough to kiss.

"You don't know! You don't know anything about me!" he shouted in her face suddenly, "You don't know ANYTHING!"

Emma didn't blink, as though she had seen it coming all along. The silence that followed was as overwhelming as Dib's sudden outburst. It was a smothering silence, a bad silence, and Dib didn't like it at all. Still, Emma continued to stare him out, her grey eyes wide as plates. Her eyeliner was smudged.

"You don't know anything," Dib repeated quietly, his voice cracked.

"Melons and lemons, Dib," she whispered, still staring at him as though daring him to contradict him.

She stood up and walked to the door, turning around to look at him only once before leaving the house. Dib watched her leave, feeling his throat close up. The phone rang shrilly, and he picked it up robotically, lifting the receiver to his ear. It was Ms Cross. He put the phone down slowly, not daring to speak to her. He didn't want to plan for her to come round tomorrow, not when he was pretty certain that she wouldn't be able to meet the appointment.

If Ms Cross came to speak to his father, it would be bad. Bad for him and bad for Gaz. If Ms Cross came to speak to his father, it would be very bad indeed.

**AN**

**Please review and an update will be on the way!**

**If you've worked out anything that might be important to the plot, please keep it to yourself. I'd hate for the story to be revealed in the reviews instead of the chapters. Thanks!**

**I only own Emma Dribben and Ms Cross. Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.**


	15. What You Don’t Know

Chapter 14

What You Don't Know 

_He walks across the floor, which is so coated in dust that it has formed a membrane that he leaves shallow footprints in. He approaches the jotter, and notices that there isn't any dust on the black and white striped cover. He picks it up and opens the cover. The pages flick past his eyes and everything goes black. He can hear shouting, dull shouting that rings in his ears, then a yell and..._

_Thudathudathudathuda THUD!_

Dib sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. It was four in the morning, but he doubted that he would get back to sleep now. In his dream, he had been in the warehouse he had dreamed of before, the one where the observatory was. He flicked on the light and looked in the mirror with a shudder. He had dark circles around sunken eyes, and his pale face was gaunt, almost skull-like. He was eating twice as much as usual, but he was thinner than he'd ever been before.

Things were catching up with him. The murders, the notes, the ever-more frequent arguments with Emma. Although, the arguments were probably a product of everything that was happening. He was so tired, so goddamn tired. And then there was Zim. The invader with his drugs and his plan to get his leaders to come round... things were coming too fast for him to take. He'd never considered the possibility that things would ever get too much for him, but it was an ending that seemed all too likely for this chapter of his life. And maybe when he lost control and fell off the rails, he would be able to climb back on at a later date and pick up life where he'd left off.

Like that was ever going to happen. He pulled himself out of bed and went downstairs as quietly as possible. There was a light on in the lounge, and when he went in Gaz looked up sharply, even slightly nervously. She was reading a book.

"What are you doing up?" they asked simultaneously, and smirked.

Dib sat down next to her, glancing at the book, which she closed at once. The title read _Psychology Now_. She turned it over, though he had already seen it. At least that explained why she wasn't being as mean to him as she usually was. She thought he was crazy... or was it Dad she was worried about? He sure as hell was. Not that he would admit it. He didn't want to give Emma the satisfaction of knowing that she could read him like a book.

"Jeez, Dib, you look like death warmed up," Gaz said blandly, as close to concern as she would come to. Dib shrugged, sinking into the seat next to her.

"Tired," he muttered, before explaining about how he was arguing with Emma, wondering why he thought that she would give a damn about him and his friends, but continuing regardless. He sighed before finishing, "She said I was scared about Ms Cross coming to see dad. I got mad at her, but... I think she's right. I think Ms Cross coming is bad news, Gaz."

"It is," she grunted, sinking back in her chair and watching Dib closely. "You've been acting weirder than usual, Dib. She might commit you if she sees exactly how crazy you are."

Dib simply nodded and sank back into his cushion. Gaz mirrored him, putting her feet up on the table. They sat in amiable silence, until Dib heard her breathing slow. He turned to watch his sister sleeping, realising that he had never felt closer to her than he had at that moment. He edged closer to her, reaching out slowly to pick up the book that sat on the couch next to her. She had marked a few pages and underlined a few paragraphs. As he was about to read a passage, Dib saw something move in the corner of his eye. Looking up, he fell off the couch in shock.

There was a murderous face looking in the window at him, eyes blazing crimson above a shark-like scowl. Dib ran to the door and pulled it open, allowing Zim to walk into the house without really knowing why he was doing it. The invader looked ready to strangle Dib with his own intestines. They stood at opposite ends of the room, glaring eat each other in silence.

"So, Dibling," Zim began quietly, his voice trembling with contempt, "You sent the religion teacher-drone to my base. You really thought that she would aid your pathetic attempts to reveal me by going to the authorities? You're a bigger fool than I thought."

"What have you done to her?" Dib asked, "I never sent her, she noticed you were out of school and went after you..."

"Close your revolting mouth, human, if you're planning to speak only in lies. She called my house. She said that she's coming round tomorrow to speak to my parents. And when I asked her why, she told me that _you_ informed her of my absence. You very nearly ruined my plan you festering stink-monkey, and for that, I'm going to have to ruin you," Zim hissed.

"I'd like to see that," Dib said shakily, taking a step backwards, but feeling relief all the same.

If Ms Cross hadn't visited Zim's base yet, then she was safe, for the time being. He had had images of Zim locking her in his lab and performing experiments on her, but by the sound of it, that was the fate that Zim had in mind for him. He noticed for the first time that Zim's wounded arm was wrapped in a strange bandage made of elastic material with an alien symbol stamped on it. Zim caught his gaze and shifted slightly.

"Oh, you can try, human, you can try," he whispered, before shouting at the top of his voice, "BUT NONE CAN GET PAST THE ALMIGHTY ZIM!!"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a fist struck. Zim screeched and whipped around to see Gaz standing in front of him, her hair sticking up on end. She had jumped up from the couch and smacked his wounded arm with enough force to send thick, alien blood squirting from both ends of the bandage. Zim looked at the blood with a whimper, and she picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

"I AM _TRYING_ TO SLEEP!" she yelled, and with that, she drop-kicked Zim out of the front door.

Zim didn't turn up at school later that day, and as far as Dib knew, neither had Emma. He sat on his own at lunch, on the same bench he had been on when Zita had been eavesdropping. He sighed and started to come up with a theory. Emma, upset that Dib had argued with her twice on the same day, had not turned up at school in order to give him some space. She had made up some excuse to her mother about feeling ill, or maybe had just told her the truth and let her mother suggest what was 

best. Zim, on the other hand. Zim was lying in wait, sitting in his base in the dark, nursing his arm and biding his time before Ms Cross got to his house. He could only draw comfort in the fact that she might visit his father first, and that was hardly a relief.

_So what? She'll die no matter who she visits first and you know it. _

Dib groaned and stood up. He had to stop thinking like this, or he was going to end up losing his mind. He needed to concentrate on something else. He walked into the school and looked at the notice board, eying a poster about the Christmas Ball. Someone walked up to him and stood beside him, looking at the poster as well. Eventually, they spoke.

"Uh, Dib?" a hopelessly unfeminine voice began, and Dib turned to see Gretchen standing beside him, ungainly as always, though her teeth were straight and brace-free now.

"Hey, Gretchen," he said, attempting a smile. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," she said, looking at her feet and blushing furiously. "Dib, I... I was wondering. Would you like to... D'you wanna go to the dance with me?"

Dib stared at her for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. There was something about how nervously she had approached him and how embarrassed she was that made her proposal extremely touching. This was intensified by the fact that she still wanted to talk to him, and be seen with him, even though the whole school hated his guts and thought he was a murdering psychopath. He was about to grin and say yes when he stopped himself. He dimly remembered promising Emma that he would take her, but wondered now if she would still want to go. But maybe it was for the best if he still went with her. They'd make up, that he knew, and he didn't think she'd be best pleased to find out that he'd cancelled on her, especially on her first dance at the school.

"Sorry, Gretch, I've already got a date," he said, and he was sorry. Her face fell, and Dib couldn't help but think that she was pretty now that her braces were gone and her once gawky teeth were back in her mouth where they belonged.

"Who?" she asked sadly, looking earnestly into his face.

"Emma," he replied, feeling inexplicably flustered, "Emma Dribben."

To Dib's horror, her eyes welled up and glistening tears began to spill from their corners. He could feel his cheeks burning as he stood in the corridor with the silently weeping girl. Eventually she looked up at him.

"You don't have to lie," she said in a low voice, "If you don't want to go with me, you don't have to lie."

"Gretchen, I..."

"I had fun when we went out, is all," she said, turning on her heel and walking away with a strange and beautiful dignity that Dib hadn't imagined she was capable of.

He watched as she pushed the door to the girl's bathrooms, and heard her give the first choking sob of many to come. He sighed and looked at his feet. He would never, _ever_ understand the way that 

girls mind's worked. Suddenly he felt angry at Emma, incredibly angry, for making him have to go through all of this. Was it impossible for her to find a different date or something? He had a feeling that Gretchen may well have been the only other person who still liked him, and now she thought that he was trying to avoid her, because obviously the idea of him getting a date with anyone else was... stupid?

"Oh, screw her," he muttered under his breath, "_Screw them both_!"

Dib ran out of the school and out of the gate and down the hill, and didn't stop running until he reached the church that now filled him with fear and rage. Everything seemed to fill him with fear and rage at the moment. Emma, thinking she knew everything about him. Zim, thinking he would take over the world. Gaz, thinking he was crazy. Gretchen, thinking he couldn't get a date.

_Oh, everyone's thinking something, everyone thinks they've got it all worked out. Well screw them as well. They don't know. They might _think_ they know, but they're just deluding themselves. And I know all about that. _

Dib ran into the church, taking the new Reverend by surprise. He looked up and smiled at Dib, remembering him from the other day. Dib walked over to him, his eyes wide. He made his way to the altar, ignoring whatever the tawny-haired man had said to him, and knelt down, clasping his hands in front of him. He felt like an idiot, and was vaguely aware that he probably looked like one too, but he couldn't help it. It was as though his body was acting of its own accord, just like when he had kicked Zim.

"Can I help you, young man?" the Reverend asked nervously, and Dib's head snapped up to face him. He heard himself answer in a far-off voice.

"I don't know if _you_ can help me. Maybe He can," his voice said, "I don't want to keep thinking like this."

Without another word, or at least not one that Dib could hear, the man walked over to him and knelt beside him, placing his hand on Dib's forehead. There was a strange mental blink, and more visions flashed in front of his eyes.

_Sand running through a timer and a shadow moving up the wall. Slowly, ever so slowly. He looks at her and she looks at him, and she's floating. Lighter than air, he thinks, but that's ironic, because she's actually quite..._

Dib's eyes flew open and he staggered to his feet, looking around him in wonder. The Reverend stared at him, exclaiming something about being cleansed by the Good Lord's light. Placebo, he thought, it's just a placebo. But he knew what he had seen, and he knew, on some level, that it was true. More than that, he knew that he needed to get to a warehouse. Even as he sprinted out of the church, he knew he was too late.

He sprinted up into the town, heading for Emma's house as though it was his only purpose in life. However, as he was running up, he could already see her running down, and she threw herself upon him like he was the only thing that mattered. He put his arms around her briefly and hugged her as 

he gave her hurried apologies and excuses about things getting to him. And she apologised back, and everything was alright. Except it wasn't.

"Emma, is there a warehouse at the top of the hill? Near your house?" he asked breathlessly, and she nodded uncertainly. He grabbed her and shook her. "Then you have to take me!"

She took his hand and pulled him off, but instead of taking him up the path that lead to his house, she ran into the woods with him, and they ran together. Trees flickered by, he stumbled on roots, and all the time he could hear his blood pounding a funeral march in his ears. Emma ran him round in so many circles, took so many sharp turns that he knew he was lost before the idea even came to him. But Emma kept running, and he kept following, and eventually they came out at the top of a hill, and the derelict warehouse that had haunted Dib's subconscious loomed into view. The door was open, swinging in the breeze.

"What's in there, Dib?" Emma asked in a panicky voice, "Why did you want to come here?"

Dib didn't respond, instead simply walking to the door and trying to block what he knew was coming from his mind. The floor was covered in dust, but even as this registered, Dib noticed that there was a small, neat rectangle in the middle of the musty room that was clean, where something had been taken from its resting place. And in the middle of all of this, amidst a mass of ropes and pulleys and chains, was Ms Cross. She was rising slowly upwards, a rope tied around her neck. She was crying.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Just to clarify, **_this_** is what Dib is thinking or seeing. **

**I only own Emma Dribben, Ms Cross and Reverend Parks. The rest belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. **


	16. Tipping the Scales

Chapter 15

Tipping the Scales

Dib stood staring at his teacher in horror, eyes darting around the chains that were lifting her slowly from the floor. She was standing on her tiptoes, but soon she would be lifted completely, and then the choking would start. He had to act fast, but until he worked out how the pulley system was working, he wouldn't be able to do anything. He could hear the Ms Cross sobbing, pulleys creaking, the chains clinking, and over the top of this, a faint rushing sound. Emma tugged his arm, pointing upwards.

There were several chains attached to Ms Cross' arms, waist, and, of course, her neck. Each one went through a pulley. These chains led upwards to the top of the warehouse. Attached to the other end of each was a large bag of sand, each with a slit in the side. As the sand fell through the bags, they were lowered to the floor, and Ms Cross was pulled upwards. When the weights were equal she would hang in the air in a sickly imitation of balanced scales, at least until the bags became lighter than she was. Then she would fall back to the ground. Of course, by the time that happened, she would already have choked. If he could remove the chains from her, or somehow get the sandbags off the chains, she would be saved.

"But whoever set this up knew I'd try to stop it," he muttered to himself, and he was suddenly filled with a terrible surety that they were already too late. He sprang into action even so, barking orders as he sprinted to the ladder that led up to the top of the warehouse. "Emma! Try and untie those chains! I'll see if I can get rid of the sandbags!"

He scrambled up the metal rungs, vaguely aware that his heart seemed to have migrated to his throat, and that whilst it was there, it seemed to be constricting his breathing. After an eternity of pulling himself up the cold bars, he reached the thin metal balcony that ran around the top of the warehouse. There were many ancient control panels up here, but Dib knew that none of these would help him. There was a slither of metal path that ran across the warehouse to reach the other side of the balcony. It was held up precariously by thinning ropes that seemed to have been waiting for a situation such as this to snap. The path was littered with spare chains and sandbags.

He ran across, trying desperately not to think about the long drop that he would be in for if the ropes gave way. As he reached the middle of the bridge, he grabbed one of the many chains that hung down like threads of some giant metallic spider web. He hauled it over the top of the bridge, sweat erupting from his pores, his jaw clenched so hard that tendons stood out in his neck. One down, eleven to go. Twelve in all, he thought dismally, grabbing the next chain and pulling for all he was worth. There was a guttural choking noise below him, and as he looked down he saw that Ms Cross was already rising. Emma was struggling to pull the chains off her arms.

"Her _throat_, you idiot, TAKE THEM OFF HER THROAT!" Dib yelled at Emma, and she looked up with panic in her eyes. The rope around Ms Cross' neck snapped the second she touched it, but the chain wasn't so easy. Her fingers scrabbled at the clinking links, to no avail.

Dib swallowed, feeling a click in his throat as he did so, pulling the next sandbag over. He was so immersed in his struggle that he didn't even notice Zim lowering himself down from the ceiling behind him, hanging there on his spider legs with a curious look in his eyes. By the time Dib had pulled three bags over, he knew there was no use in trying. The bags were getting lower and lower, making them increasingly more difficult to retrieve, and Ms Cross was now too high up for Emma to reach her neck. He grabbed the fourth bag, and that was when he heard the voice behind him. He dropped it in shock, and heard the resulting choke from his teacher as the chain around her neck tightened.

"Why are you doing that?" Zim asked, his voice laced with puzzlement, "You'll ruin it if you do."

"Zim!" Dib gasped, "You monster! What did you do?"

Zim narrowed his eyes, glancing down at Ms Cross' now convulsing body. He then looked around, and as Dib followed his gaze, he saw that there was a pile of white bags on the balcony across the room. This was where Zim was storing his pills, out of sight from the rest of the neighbourhood. Maybe it was where he was storing his victims as well, though Dib had thought that he had ruled Zim out from his suspects list.

"Well? Are you killing her or saving her?" Zim asked, and Dib gulped, looking back at the rising body. Zim wasn't concerned what he did, in fact, he seemed confused as to why Dib was attempting to save her. He wondered how long the invader had been sitting in the warehouse, watching her rise, listening to her pleas and her sobs.

Zim pulled himself over onto the bridge, standing next to Dib and looking over the edge silently. Dib grabbed another bag with a frenzied yell, pulling even as he felt the chain slip further down through his fingers. To his surprise, he saw Zim start to do the same, but it was too late. He could see the bags levelling themselves with Ms Cross; she was now half-way up to the ceiling, and yet, to Dib's surprise, she was still twitching slightly. She drew in a hacking breath, her face purple, her eyes bulging, tears of black eyeliner streaming down her flabby face. She rose up, looking as though she was lighter than air despite the fact that she was so fat.

"Mem..._brane..._" she gulped, her eyes rolling up to face Dib, then continuing to roll straight back into her head. She was level with the bags. The pulley stopped creaking. The warehouse was silent. Then the chain clicked in the pulley and she plummeted to the floor, landing with a sickening crunch.

Dib ran back down the path, sprinting to the ladder and almost falling down it as he hurried back to the ground level. He ran up to her, wrapping his hand in his sleeve before putting his fingers to her neck. There was no pulse. Emma was standing, transfixed on Ms Cross, tears rolling down her face. It was at this moment that Dib remembered how angry he was at her, and he pushed her to the floor, making her gasp in surprise and pain. She was so _stupid_; she couldn't even pull a freaking chain off someone's neck, making Gretchen mad at him, always thinking she knew everything about anything. Well look where it had got them. He kicked her in the ribs and walked out of the warehouse into the cold night air.

He started off down the hill, hearing footsteps behind him and feeling rage bring tears to his eyes. If she was following him, he would kick her straight down the hill, and at the moment, he was just about crazy enough to do it. However, it wasn't Emma's constantly warm hand that touched his elbow, but a freakishly strong grip that pulled him around. Zim was standing next to him, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide.

"What did you see back there, dirtling?" Zim asked, and Dib spat in his face, grinning to see that his saliva burnt the alien's skin. He walked slowly off, Zim's incoherently shrieked threats ringing in his ears.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. I apologise for the extremely dodgy formatting in the previous chapter. The formatting seems to be messing up in some of my other stories as well, and I'm putting it down to the new uploading system. **

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. **

**I own Emma Dribben and Ms Cross. **


	17. Shorter Than Them

Chapter 16

Shorter Than Them

It was two days before Emma came to see Dib again. She had come into the house after school, though Dib didn't know if she had actually been attending herself. He hadn't been in to school in this time, which he had spent laying on his bed and finding that he agreed with Gaz about one thing; there was a stench coming from the box room that was simply horrific. He wasn't in any mood to investigate, though, and his dad hadn't bothered to come out and check why his son wasn't going to school each morning. But that was for the best; if he had, he would have seen that Dib wasn't sick at all, and sent him off straight away. Well, that was what a normal parent would have done, so maybe that was a hopeful assumption, but Dib didn't care.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Dib had liked Ms Cross. She had been a lot more in tune with her students than the rest of the teachers at his school, and she was genuinely concerned about him. She had also been funny and pretty laid back about homework. The whole class had liked her, and now that he thought about it, Dib wondered if Zim hadn't liked her as well. Or at least, understood enough to know that she wasn't to be feared, like the rest of the 'teacher-drones'. Thinking back, though it pained him to do so, Dib remembered that Zim had also attempted to help to save her, which said it all really.

But if that was the case, why hadn't Zim attempted to save Ms Cross when he had been watching her on his own? Possibly even watching her being trussed up with ropes. Possibly even seeing who the killer was? Dib sat up. (_I know things, Dib-Stink. I know what happened to them._) He was pretty sure that Zim had said that he had seen the murderer before, but that was back when he had been pretty sure that Zim himself was the killer. He decided that he would have to pay Zim a visit, and find out exactly what was going on.

As he dragged himself to his door, Dib thought vaguely that he ought to take a shower and change his clothes as well. Having not done so in two days, he had an idea that Zim would smell him before he saw him. He opened the door to his room and wrinkled his nose. First things first, however, he would sort out the box room. He wondered dimly if a bird had flown in the window and died. It certainly smelt like it. He crossed the corridor and cleared his throat, his voice croaky.

"Dad? Dad, I'm coming in," he called.

Silence.

This was unnerving, and Dib shouted louder, suddenly realising that his voice had taken on a slightly panicky quality. He knocked hard on the door, but there was no reply. In the end he ran down to the kitchen to get the spare key. He put it into the lock and started to turn it when a hand came down on his and stopped him dead. He whipped around. Emma had apparently let herself in, and she watched him warily. Dib noticed that there was a bruise on her arm from where he had pushed her over, and was surprised to find that he felt no guilt whatsoever.

"What are you doing here?" Dib asked. He didn't ask how she had got in; he was used to her randomly appearing in his house and hardly ever questioned it anymore. He wanted to know what had possessed her to think that she would be welcome back here ever again.

"I was just thinking that I ought to come and apologise for whatever I've done this time. And I was also thinking that you look terrible. And that you've been a complete bitch to me lately," she replied, and now he did feel guilt. She smiled and added, "What're you doing?"

"I was just... checking on my dad. There's a weird smell and..."

"I don't smell anything," Emma replied, taking a deep sniff and then wrinkling her nose. "Well. I smell _you_ at least. Jeez, Dib, you stink!"

Dib sighed and took the key out of the lock. His sudden desperation to open the box room had passed, and surprisingly, the smell seemed to be fading. He would check on his dad later, when he got home from Zim's base, perhaps. Maybe he'd bring him a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits. A newspaper. They could sit and chat about school, work, daily events. Or something. He went to have a shower, wrapping a towel in a turban around his head to dry his scythe. If Gaz had been home, he wouldn't have dared. Somehow he knew that Emma wouldn't laugh. That Emma had seen weirder things.

"I'm going to Zim's base today," he told her as they sat in the kitchen. "He says he knows who the murderer is. I figured I'd make him tell me, and if he doesn't then I can mess up his plan or something like that."

Emma had agreed, and the next thing Dib knew, he was standing outside Zim's base, wondering exactly how he was going to go about asking him for help. Maybe the best method would be to not ask at all, but to order the alien to instead, to blackmail him into submission. Call the authorities or something. Yes, that would work; it had to work. He knocked sharply on the door, but there was no reply. Not even the creepy little robot, Dib noticed. He curled his fingers into a fist and thumped the door, and still nobody came. He started to pound it with both hands in a frenzy, yelling for Zim to come to the door, when he heard voices inside. He had only heard them once before and yet he recognised them at once.

"Ugh. What is that _noise_?" an annoyed voice muttered.

"ZIM! MAKE THE NOISE GO AWAY!" a high voice hollered. It sounded slightly muffled, as though it were yelling through a mouthful of food.

There were quick footsteps, and the door was wrenched open by Zim, who looked breathless and irate in a long pink apron. Dib looked him up and down, his eyebrow rising of its own accord, and Zim scowled at him. His face was splashed with what looked like batter of some kind. Dib looked over his shoulder to see that the room was littered with wrappers. The TV was cranked up to almost maximum volume, on a station with happy cartoon animals on it.

Dib's eyes travelled across the room towards the couch, where two Irkens, both extremely tall and extremely skinny, were lounging. They were wearing robes and armour, and Dib recognised them at once to be the 'Almighty Tallest' that had been on Zim's communications screen. GIR was standing in front of them with a tray of snacks attached to his head. Dib noticed that his eyes were red, and that his hand seemed to be welded to the side of his head in a salute. Zim's robot parents stood at either end of the couch, each one also holding a tray of junk food. Dib turned back to Zim, who glared at him.

"I'm still shorter than them," he growled, and Dib nodded silently, understanding that if he threatened to call the authorities, then it wouldn't just be Zim that was taken in; his leaders would be captured as well.

Zim grabbed Dib by the throat and dragged him, kicking and writing, through to the kitchen. Dib's mouth hung open as he saw the mess that the kitchen was in. Bowls and packets and spoons and knives dominated the table in a higgledy-piggledy mass, a deep-fat fryer had replaced his stove and batter was sprayed up the walls. As Dib stared, the microwave beeped, the door flying open and a plate of food shooting out. Zim shot out his arm to catch it as he stirred another bowl furiously. Another device beeped, and popped open to reveal several military lines of doughnuts.

"I think we ought to call back when he's not so busy," Emma whispered, and Dib nodded distractedly.

"Well don't just stand there, Earth-bug!" Zim snapped over his shoulder, "Get frying! I need all the help I can get!"

Bemused, Dib walked over to the deep-fat fryer, staring into the glistening pool inside it. He dunked a batch of fries into it, before being shoved aside as Zim came hurtling over with something else that needed frying. He then handed Dib an apron. And that was it. Emma broke up at the door into hysterical laughter, to which Dib joined in after a while. Zim stood, his eyes shining hatefully at him, face flushing into a dark, blotchy green.

"You're asking me for help," Dib laughed, and the mere words brought tears of mirth to his eyes. "You're asking _me_ to help you! You must be really desperate." The thought hadn't occured to him that he was just as desperate; he had forgotten why he was here with the jumble of events that had followed his arrival.

"Despe-RATE? ZIM? NEVER!" Zim exploded, waving a saucepan threateningly at Dib and looking like some hilarious parody of an angry housewife. "You know not of what you speak, filth-boy. Zim was trained for such a situation by the Tallest themselves, who sent me to Foodcourtia to prepare for the moment when they knew they would be guests at my base!"

"Zim! Food!" Red yelled from the other room, and Zim scurried humbly in, balancing a tray on each hand. Dib could hear him grovelling through the door.

"...And perhaps then my Tallest would be willing to talk about my _proposition_."

Dib went out the back door and ran off to go home. He was going to get his camera. The thought of exposing Zim wasn't even on his mind; he simply wanted to get some footage of the alien in his apron. He walked with Emma, laughing into the empty street, unaware of exactly how creepy he looked at that moment. His hair was slicked up, his cheeks were gaunt and starkly white, and his eyes were sunken. He was nearly as thin as the Tallest themselves. And the person that he was talking to was completely invisible.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. Nobody has guessed exactly **_**what**_** Emma is yet, though many have come close. I'd rather you didn't attempt to put your guesses in the reviews though, because you shall be finding out in upcoming chapters.**

**I would also like to offer a serious apology for my lack of physics in my previous chapter, though nobody has picked me up on it. I had modified my original idea for Ms Cross' murder, and recently an embarrassing thought came to me. The sandbags wouldn't have been lowering if they were losing sand. I should have stuck to my original idea, which actually worked. Oh well.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez.**

**I own Emma Dribben. **


	18. Taller Than Them

Chapter 17

Taller Than Them

As Zim cooked furiously in the kitchen; stirring, pouring, frying, serving, he found that he was muttering bitterly under his breath about the Dib. He _had_ asked that filthy wormling for help, but he had thought that after he had attempted to help him with the teacher-drone he would return the favour. He had thought that humans gave their peers the same that they were given; an ear for an ear or whatever nonsensical logic it was that they worked to, but he had evidently been mistaken. Of course, that hadn't been why he had helped; the Tallest hadn't even turned up at that time, but Zim had been close to feeling respect for the Cross-woman. His fanatical interest in human beliefs had promoted him to the position of 'her star pupil'. Not that it mattered now; the Tallest were here and it was his duty to attempt to end their endless appetites.

He never once questioned why he was cooking for them; he felt simple, undiluted respect and adoration for the lazy slobs that were gorging themselves stupid in the next room. Neither did he think about the irony of the situation; he had called them down here to bend them to his will, yet here he was cooking himself into a frenzy over a mass of appliances and utensils. He certainly wasn't thinking about how insane the Dib-boy was becoming, though he had noticed it with some amusement over the past three months. Talking to a person that only he could see. Even for humans, Zim knew that this wasn't normal. In fact, he delighted in it. But there were more important things to think about at the moment.

The Tallest had arrived the day after the Cross-woman's death. Zim had stood by the teleporter in his base with mounting anticipation, grinning evilly at the incredible and unbelievable notion that he had some sort of power over his Tallest. Surely that created a paradox of some sort? When they had arrived, the teleporter had broken. The Tallest were so horrified at the prospect of being stuck on Earth that Zim had been forced to make them feel welcome. It was a task that Zim had been all too happy to do, but soon they would have to ask him about his proposal, and then he would be promoted for sure!

Although... He was getting tired of cooking. A thought, so wild that it made him shiver, slipped into his mind. He had the resources to grow taller than the Tallest; taller than any Tallest had been before. All he had to do was take some pills. He stopped himself. Such a thought would get him shut down for sure.

Still...

--

Dib sprinted into his house in a gleeful blur, grabbing his camera and nearly falling top to bottom down the stairs in his rush to get back to Zim's base. Emma stood at the bottom, waiting for him with a grin. For the first time in a long time Dib found that the sight of her didn't annoy him. Now that she wasn't trying to be logical or helpful to him; now that she was simply keeping him company, he was glad that she was there. The whole situation with Zim wouldn't be anywhere near as entertaining if she hadn't been. As they walked out of the door she slipped her hand into his.

"You know," she said slowly, "If Zim's leaders are here, we could always cut short his mission. So to speak."

"What do you mean?" Dib asked.

"If he doesn't have leaders, maybe he doesn't have a mission," she said, "We could call the authorities. And if they fail us, we could always conduct a little autopsy of our own."

Dib stared at her, trying to work out how serious she was. It was hard to tell, and he suddenly found himself feeling extremely uncomfortable. His fingers went limp, dropping her hand, though it lingered in the air for a moment. In this fleeting moment, Dib thought that he saw her hand inside his, ghostlike as he had once before. Then the vision was gone, and he was outside Zim's base, brandishing a camera and shivering slightly in the cold.

The television was still turned up loud, and Dib opened the door without being heard. He walked past the Tallest with no fuss; it was as though they didn't see him at all. They were in their own little bubble, laughing and eating without a care in the world. And why should they? They were the leaders of a powerful Empire, with so many slaves and servants to do their business that caring about things was an unnecessary distraction from their sedentary lives. After snapping a few pictures, Dib decided to take the opportunity to explore the base. After all, Zim was extremely busy; he wouldn't be able to stop him.

He went down the elevator that was hidden under an end table and made his way through the maze of different chambers that was hidden under the house itself. Each room contained masses of machinery, the likes of which Dib had never seen before. He could only imagine what it all did. He could faintly hear excited exclamations as Emma explored other areas of the base. He snapped pictures left and right before seeing the door. There was a sign on it that was written in Irken symbols, but the picture of a strange alien skull and crossbones was enough to show that this room was forbidden.

However, when Dib approached it, the door simply slid open. He grinned and walked inside. He had been looking for a place to plant a spy camera; now he had found it. Zim always found the cameras in the house; Dib had planted so many up there that the Irken half-expected there to be one. Dib rarely got down to the lower levels. As long as GIR didn't destroy this camera like the last one, Dib would be able to spy on the inner workings of the base, perhaps even something that was vital to Zim's plan. He looked around the room and gasped. Emma caught up with him and whistled admiringly.

In the middle of the room, taking up most of the space inside it, was what looked like a gigantic robot crab. It had huge metal pincers that glinted threateningly in the dim light of the room. On closer inspection, Dib saw that there was a windscreen and controls inside the crab. He climbed in and pulled a lever experimentally. One of the claws rose smoothly up into the air. He pulled a lever on the other side, and the other claw swung up to meet it. He grinned and let them flail spastically around the room, swinging them close to Emma and watching her laugh. He pressed a button on top of the joystick controllers and gasped. The claws had snapped closed, an inch from Emma's head. They were razor sharp, and he knew that they could have easily killed her. He climbed out, looking at the machine slightly nervously now. He was suddenly certain that he'd seen it before. They planted the camera and left the base unseen.

--

Zim walked slowly and humbly in front of the Tallest, his face split into a huge grin. He had been contemplating for a while now. He thought that maybe, if he could take enough of the painkillers without the Tallest knowing, he would be able to grow a lot taller in just a few days. Sure, the humans would notice something, even they weren't _that_ stupid, but if he could get to be tall enough to be a Tallest, it wouldn't matter. His skin had broken out into gooseflesh just thinking about the things he had been thinking about. He looked at his leaders, imagining them serving him. His grin widened.

"Regrettably, my Tallest, I need to go out and do something. Something extremely important to the mission. Feel free to look around," he said in a sickening voice, slipping out of the base.

Zim set out to the warehouse, his heart pounding crazily. He had never felt so incredibly alive before; never felt so fantastically _powerful_. Alive and powerful, with top-notes of guilt. A wonderful combination, but a deadly one nonetheless. Zim was on such a high from his inflated sense of self-importance that he didn't notice the eyes that watched him, unblinking from the window that he passed. He hadn't noticed the footsteps that ran in the opposite direction to him, back in the direction of his base. He didn't know that by the time he got back he would forget all about taking over Irk. It was a long walk to the warehouse, so his base was the last thing on his mind.

Zim hummed lightly as he walked over the hill towards the warehouse that was outlined by the setting sun, oblivious to the blood that was slowly pooling on his laboratory floor.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. **

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. Emma Dribben belongs to me. **


	19. Smallest Guy On Earth

Chapter 18

Smallest Guy On Earth

Zim walked into the warehouse, looking at Ms Cross' corpse with distaste. It was starting to smell in here; he would have to get rid of her body soon. But now was not the time for that; now was the time for action. He climbed to the balcony that Dib had run across, grabbing a few of the bags of pills and chugging a few of them immediately. He heard a scuffling noise below him and looked down to see, with an appropriate level of disgust, that the body of the teacher-drone was attracting rats. He sighed. The vermin would probably taint his stash and make it useless. He went back down to the warehouse floor and wrapped one of his spider-legs around Ms Cross' leg, dragging her outside.

He looked around. Somewhere, he knew, was a shovel. He had seen it when he had first come; a large spade with half of the handle broken off. When he found it, Zim sighed. It would take him ages to dig the hole without assistance, but he needed to leave GIR with the Tallest so that someone could still serve them. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was already setting; it would be dark by the time he got back to the base. He stuck the rusty blade of the shovel into the ground and started to dig.

By the time Zim had finished it was nearing half past ten. Sweating and panting, he put the shovel down and looked at the hole he had created; a relatively shallow trench that was only just wide enough to accommodate his former teacher's body. He dragged her in and piled the soil back on top of her, smothering the smell of her ripening flesh. When she was buried, Zim picked up the bags of pills he had taken and set back off on the long walk home. He wondered what he would tell the Tallest when he got back. He had been gone for hours; surely they would have missed him by now. He walked down the hill towards the town, smiling slightly to himself. A shuffling series of footsteps behind him made him stop and turn. A hobo stood behind him, smiling ominously.

"Hey, man. Got any change?" he asked through a throat that seemed to be lined with road chippings.

"Yes," Zim replied, throwing a fifty dollar bill to the floor. He knew the drill. You gave the alley-beasts money when they asked, and they left you alone. As he could print as much of the Earth-monies as he needed, Zim never thought about how much he gave them. He turned to carry on, and a heavy, grimy hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him instantly.

"You kidding me? A fifty?" the hobo exclaimed, and Zim shrugged. A huge grin split on the hobo's face, showing uneven, rotting teeth. He eyed the plain white bag that Zim was carrying curiously. "Whatchoo got in your bag? Grass? Pills?"

"Pills?" Zim looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. "How much do you know, filthy stink-beast?"

"I know this much," the man replied gravely, "I'll tell you 'cause I like you, man. No matter how big those pills make you feel at first, you'll end up the smallest guy on Earth eventually. S'what happened to me, is all. Take care, little buddy."

Zim stared at him as he shuffled his way back into the alley that he had come from. The smallest guy on Earth? Impossible, surely? But... they did make him feel big. They certainly made him taller on the outside. He bit his tongue and carried on back down through the town. The journey back to his base suddenly seemed like a marathon. By the time he walked slowly up to his front door, it was past midnight. He opened it, walking into the front room. It was pitch black inside. Zim flicked the light and looked around. The Tallest were nowhere to be seen, though the room was still full of empty wrappers and trays.

"My Tallest?" Zim called, but there was no reply. "GIR?"

He walked slowly into the kitchen, flicking the light on the ominous mess he had left it in. Nobody was here either. He called again, deciding that the Tallest must have gone off to explore his base, and couldn't hear him down in the lower levels. As for GIR, well, he could be doing anything. Zim flushed himself down the toilet into the elevator, setting off to explore the lower levels. He shouted louder, but still there was no reply.

"Computer! Where are the Tallest?" Zim asked impatiently.

"_Scanning for PAK signals. Unable to locate Irken life,_" the computer replied, and Zim was instantly panicked. If the computer couldn't locate their PAKs then they had travelled a long way from his base. They didn't have disguises! They would be seen, and the mission would be... wait.

Zim raised an eyebrow, sinking into a chair. The Tallest would have to be several galaxies away before their PAKs were out of range. Had they got fed up of waiting and teleported back to the Massive? Impossible; the teleporter was still broken. Maybe they had ordered a shuttle to come and pick them up? But still, they had seemed worried and interested about his secret of height. They wouldn't have left if they had thought he could overthrow them, would they? Zim settled his head on his hands, trying to figure it out, and it was now that he heard the noise. A faint _plink_ing, coming from one of the laboratories. He stood up and went over to the door, opening it curiously.

Zim walked into the room, hearing a thick squelching as he did so. He turned on the lights and looked down at his feet. There was blood on the floor. He looked instinctively to his arm; though out of a bandage now, the skin was still weakened from the laser shot and prone to breaking. But there was no blood coming from his arm. It was then that he noticed that, though his shadow fell in front of him onto the puddle, the rest of the shadows in the room were facing the other way. He turned behind him to see his shadow was there. The one on the floor was swaying gently. He looked up slowly and the breath came out of him in a _foof_ as he fell over backwards in shock. A pair of glazed purple eyes stared eternally into his as his Tallest hung lifelessly in front of him.

--

Dib woke up suddenly at the sound of a screeching wail coming from his computer speakers. He looked at the clock on the wall in disgust; it showed 00:42. Slowly he began to remember what he had been doing before he had fallen asleep. He had been watching the video feed of Zim's laboratory, but something had happened to his camera in the time he had been sleeping. It was knocked over, facing the ceiling of pipes and wires. But he still had audio, and he could hear something that sounded disturbingly like sobbing. Zim sobbing.

He stood up and walked to his door without another glance at the screen. He couldn't let this lie; something had happened and he was going to find out. He peeked into Gaz's room as he passed it, smiling to see that she was fast asleep. He would avoid any confrontations as he was leaving the house. He walked feverishly down the street, shivering slightly in the cold. The dark didn't bother him. It was only when he walked under the streetlamps that he felt nervous. When he walked under the streetlamps, he was exposed.

Dib opened Zim's front door and walked to the elevator shaft without looking around to see who he might be disturbing. As he walked quietly towards the laboratory, the sobs became louder and shriller, before lapsing into strange, chuckling hiccoughs. Dib opened the door to the robot room silently, looking inside and feeling his heart miss a beat. Zim knelt on the floor in a puddle of blood that had the consistency of sludgy espresso coffee. He had his head pressed into his knees, and his frame was shaking. The crab robot towered above him, its claws outstretched.

Stapled into each claw were Zim's Almighty Tallest. The claws had punched through their stomachs and met in the middle, leaving them hanging, bent double, in the air. The thick green blood leaked slowly from their stomachs. It looked sticky. Despite all of this, Dib found himself thinking that they had been punctured in exactly the same place. If you were to lay one on top of the other, the holes would match up perfectly. He shuddered as a voice piped up in the back of his mind, child-like and haunting.

_Twins. The twins got killed by the crab. Pity they didn't sidestep it, eh? Though the crab would just do the same._

Zim's antennas pricked up, and he froze. He heaved himself up from the floor slowly, turning to face Dib. His hands trembled as he did so. His narrowed eyes looked like bloated berries in their sockets, and yellow tears stained his face. When he spoke, his voice was laced with murder.

"You," he said quietly, raising his quivering hand to point at Dib. "YOU!"

"Zim, I..." Dib began, but he stopped as more tears rolled down the Invader's face.

"I was going to overthrow them myself," he confided in a croaky whisper, "I was going to rule over them. But someone beat me to it. Someone _killed_ them. And when the control brains find them dead, they'll scan my memories. And they'll _know_. They'll shut me down. They'll SHUT ME DOWN!!"

Dib took a step backwards, his eyes never breaking the terrifying gaze that Zim had locked on him. Maybe it was time to leave. He had presumed Zim would lunge at him and tear him apart on the spot, but as he backed away further, the Irken simply curled back up at his Tallest's feet, regaining his sobbing. Dib tripped over something as he took another step. It was the shell of Zim's robot, Gir, but there was no light in his prominent eyes. The wires had been ripped out of the back of his head.

--

Dib sat back down in front of the screen, rewinding the video footage that he had recorded. He wondered exactly when the camera had been tipped over, and whether it had recorded any footage of the murderer. He also wondered if he really wanted to see who it was. Yet something told him that he must go on. He had come too far not to find out if he had the chance. As minute after minute went by, Dib found his eyelids drooping until finally the camera righted itself. He jabbed the 'play' button and stared at the screen. The Tallest walked in.

"Oh, wow," the one in red exclaimed, staring up at the robot, "Zim's been busy."

"Yeah, he's... hey!" the one in purple replied, turning, slack-jawed , to face the door, "Who the hell...?"

There was a white flash, and the camera tipped.

Dib bit his tongue and rewound it again, squinting to try and make out what the flash was. Nothing. Finally he played it in slow motion. The door opened and the white thing made its way across the room. Now that it was in slow motion, Dib could see that it wasn't pure white, but streaked with red as well. The white shape reached the camera and upended it, and there was a brief glimpse of colour before the ceiling showed. With a spastically trembling hand, Dib went back frame by frame until he saw the image again. There was no mistaking what it was now. A figure, from the back was walking briskly away from the camera.

A figure wearing a lab coat, with his hair in a long black scythe.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben, Ms Cross and the hobo. **


	20. You Shall Go To The Ball

Chapter 19

You Shall Go To The Ball

Dib scrambled back from the screen in cold horror, his face cheesy-white and his innards entirely absent. His father could not be the killer. It was impossible; it was insane! And yet, it was the only explanation. Without thinking, he glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning, and it was a Saturday. Something was happening tonight; a special occasion of some sort, though he knew he was only coming up with this because it was a fact, and perhaps concentrating on facts would help to take his mind off what was happening at that exact moment. He took one last look at the image on the screen and shuddered. There was blood sprayed up the back of the lab coat as well.

He pressed play and the camera flicked up to the ceiling. A high-pitched scream forced its way out of the speakers, rattling them in their casings as Dib drew back from the screen. There was yelling, scuffling and more screaming, all with a rending, hysterical laughter laced over the top that didn't sound like his father at all. Dib bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out as well. Finally there were five precious seconds of silence, before slow footsteps made their way out of the room. Now the only sound that could be heard was that sickly _plink_ing as the blood that had carried life around the Tallest's bodies drained thickly to a pool on the floor. _Plink. Plink. Plink. _

Dib turned off the computer, thinking wildly that if he heard another one of those sticky _plink_s he would go mad. His father had killed... he stopped to count on his fingers before drawing in a light gasp. Six people; four human, two Irken, _six_ people were dead, and his father had killed them. Dib wrinkled his nose. The stench was back, in a thick fog that had filled the corridor and snaked stealthily under his door. Was there even the slightest chance that there really was a body in the spare room? That his father had killed another, under their very noses? Dib shuddered, turning jumpily to face the door in case the Professor was standing there, smiling, a knife glinting slyly as he held it casually by his side.

There was nobody there. Gaz was still asleep; he could hear her gentle breathing in the next room. Dib groaned and crawled into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and sinking back against his pillow. He knew he would have to get some sleep, but it was going to be a very difficult task. He kept his eyes on his door until the last, praying that he wouldn't hear the spare room click open, praying that his father wouldn't come to him in the night. When he drifted off, his dreams were cold and terrifying.

--

_The dull roar of the shouting rushes over him in a cloud. Spiteful words, hateful words, words that sting his flesh and sink in, threatening to poison his heart. He tries to shout back, but all that he can manage is a squeaking yelp, and that is no good against the onslaught that is spraying over him. He protests, pleads, shouts and argues, tears worming their way to his eyes but not spilling, not yet. Finally he makes himself heard, and that's when it happens. The low voice says one sentence, one sentence that stops him cold. He opens his mouth, and now all of the hatred he has been trying to voice comes out of him in a scream which he draws out for as long as his lungs will let him, but it is drowned out by the roaring sound that has filled his head and stopped his thoughts. He runs forwards, still screaming, and pushes out. There is a gasp, a rush of air and then..._

_Thudathudathudathuda THUD!_

_Silence._

--

Dib sat up, trembling, with sweat coating his body in a freezing film. His pillow was soaking, and Dib wondered if he had been crying in his sleep. He looked at the clock and did a double take; it was lunch time. He got into the shower, smiling a little at the icy water. Gaz was awake at least. When he dressed, he walked up to the spare room door, braced himself, and put his ear to it. He couldn't hear anyone inside. He could still smell whatever it was that had gone off in there though. He doubted that it was the remaining alien spores. It smelt like rotten meat. He swallowed deeply and walked downstairs, making a coffee and gulping it uncomfortably, trying to rid himself of the feeling that there was a body in his house. He read the note that Gaz had taped on the door of the fridge.

_Have gone out. You'd better have found some air freshener for the spare room before I get home, or you'll wish you still had a nose to smell it with._

Dib sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was go into that room, and he thought that maybe Gaz shared that feeling with him. Otherwise she would have sorted it out long before now. He had another thought, one that he was also pretty sure that Gaz shared. Whatever his father had locked in that room would do well to be left alone. He didn't want to know what it was. Or who it was. Shuddering, he picked up the phone, but before he could even dial her number, Emma walked into the kitchen, smiling brilliantly.

"Hey, Dib! Zim revealed his plan to the camera yet?" Dib looked up at her, and her smile faltered. "What?" she added uneasily and he sighed.

"Zim's leaders are dead. Someone used the robot to impale them," he said slowly, before adding, "I got the killer on camera."

"Who? D'you... did you recognise them?" Emma asked, a little too quickly at first. Dib barely noticed, staring glumly at the table.

"My dad," he whispered, "Emma, it was my dad."

Emma made a strange noise, half way between a cough and a snort. Dib looked up into her face, his brow furrowed. She didn't believe him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs despite her protests, dragging her to the computer and playing the footage. She stared at the still image with bright spots of colour on her cheeks. Dib watched her, uncertain as to what she was going to say, and not sure if he wanted to hear it. Eventually she looked up.

"In that case," she said quietly, "I think you ought to stay away from the spare room. Who knows what, or who, that smell is. But you probably ought to stay quiet about all of this too. You'll be taken away if anyone finds out."

Dib stared at her uncomprehendingly. She couldn't expect him to live in the same house as his father, knowing what he was doing, knowing about the thing in the spare room! She couldn't think that being taken away was worse than living with a murderer? And she couldn't possibly imagine that he would stay in the same house as the smell, which... but she had said that she couldn't smell it before. She had, because she had told him she couldn't smell it, and then he hadn't been able to either. Dib closed his eyes and sat down on his bed, realising that for all he knew, he really had no idea what was going on. It was a daunting thought.

"I need to get out of this house," he muttered to himself, and Emma smiled brightly and suddenly.

"We're still going to the Christmas Ball tonight, right?" she asked, and it was such a sudden change of subject, so out of place in the chain of events that had gone on, that Dib was thrown off balance and left stuttering for an answer for an agonising minute.

"W...What?" he managed eventually, and she shrugged.

"The Christmas Ball. It's tonight. You promised you'd take me, is all," she said nonchalantly, and Dib stared at her blindly.

"I'm sorry. I guess I forgot, what with my dad going around killing people and all," he said, and she smiled grimly.

"So don't you think it's a good idea to spend as much time out of his way as possible?" she asked, and he lapsed into silence.

Dib stood up, grabbing air-freshener from the bathroom. He walked reluctantly to the door of the spare room and pointed it at the door like a gun, holding down the nozzle until the entire can was used up. He carried on down the stairs, spluttering helplessly in the choking, dizzying wave of jasmine that filled the house, writing his own note to Gaz on the fridge.

_Hope I used enough air-freshener. Have gone out as well. Will not be coming back until past 10, am going to the Christmas Ball._

He pulled his scarf and gloves off their pegs and wrapped himself up against the chill outside. He was about to go out of the house when he turned and strode back to the kitchen, grabbing the marker and scribbling an extension to his note in cramped, spiky letters.

_Don't go in the spare room, Gaz. I think there's something bad in there. I'll explain when I get home. _

Emma smiled pensively as she read the note, before grabbing Dib's gloved hand and walking out of the door. Dib walked passively, wondering why he wasn't doing more about what he had found out, but not knowing what else he could do anyway. The only thing that remained a constant in his mind was this. There was a Christmas Ball at the school, and he was going to attend it. It worked, it made sense, and it didn't destroy everything that he had known before, unlike the other things that he was thinking about. As they turned the corner, Emma made a joke. His laughter, grateful and hysterical, echoed down the empty street.

--

When Gaz returned home at six, she realised that the air in their house had been replaced with jasmine scent. She stormed into the kitchen and read the note on the fridge, groaning. Then she looked at the extra note that Dib had left her, an eyebrow rising slowly. _Don't_ go in the spare room? She hadn't realised exactly how insane Dib had become, but she didn't think he had sunk low enough to boss her around. What the hell was he hiding in there? She picked up the key to the lock, walking up the stairs. Of course, she didn't want to unlock the door, much less go in, but she wasn't going to be told what to do.

She had long since decided that whatever was making that unearthly stench could stay right where it was, and she had a feeling that Dib thought this too. She had found herself looking the other way when she passed the door, and she had watched Dib listening at it, straining desperately to hear muttering that only he could hear. Though she had never gone close enough to hear herself, she thought. She walked stiffly towards it now, sliding the key into the lock. She turned it with a hand that seemed to be trembling, though she would tell herself afterwards that it was simply because the lock was too stiff to turn the key properly. In actual fact, the key turned smoothly, with a _click_ that echoed loudly, not in the house, but in her head.

Gaz opened the door, and the stench of rotting meat did not float out, but came in a sudden tidal wave that obliterated the jasmine scent and singed her nose hair. She gagged, nearly throwing up, and staggered backwards. All that she could see were boxes, but her eyes were watering so much from the smell that she could barely see them either. She looked in and heard a piercing scream. Later she would realise that it had been her, but for now, all that she could register was the image that lay in front of her.

The corpse was propped up against the back wall, eyes wide and glazed and staring. Its skin was like melted wax, and it was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Its neck was severely twisted, so its head lay on its shoulder. As it gazed at Gaz through sightless eyes, she stared back, hands trembling as though she were getting an electric shock. Though she didn't know it, she was still screaming. She would carry on until her breath gave out. When that moment came, her thoughts would come back. When that happened, all hell would break loose.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. Things shall start coming together very soon, so stay tuned!**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben. **


	21. Gaz’s Journal

Chapter 20

Gaz's Journal

When Gaz was six, her mother died. She had contracted cancer, and Gaz and Dib had visited her every day after school and helplessly watched her as she slowly rotted from the inside out. If Gaz had been studied by a psychologist, they would have noted this as the main cause of her self-isolation from people as a whole. She didn't trust other people with her affection, not when they could be removed from her life so easily. But the death of her mother was also the root of Gaz's one and only fear.

Three months after her mother's death, Gaz had stayed up late to watch a horror movie. Sleeping had become harder for her, but not as hard as spending her seventh birthday without her mom. The Professor had spent a lot less time with her and Dib, immersing himself completely in his work and shutting off the memory of his wife and the children that she had left him with. In this horror movie there were zombies. An army of the undead, coming back from the grave to feast on the flesh of the living. That night she had had a nightmare, one that would haunt her sleep for many years.

In it, she lay awake in her bed, only to turn and see the cancer-riddled corpse of her mother lying next to her. It would grin and hold out its arms to embrace her. This dream came back to her almost every night. For the first few months of this recurring terror she would wake up screaming. As time passed, she would go to bed knowing what to expect, and the screams would be silent when she sat up, sweaty and cold, at midnight, unable to go back to sleep. When she had discovered the blank, mindless joy of video games, the nightmares ceased, and Gaz had almost forgotten about her one, overwhelming phobia. She wasn't scared of dying; she accepted that as an inevitable part of life. But she was terrified of death. It hadn't been until she had opened the spare room that all of her darkest memories had come bursting out of the Pandora's Box that our minds try so hard to keep from opening.

It was now eight o'clock. Gaz had slammed the door of the room, locked it, and run to her bedroom two hours ago, before fainting reluctantly onto her bed. She had felt the darkness enfolding her and sat down on the mattress, cursing herself for her mental weakness even as she blacked out. Now that she had come around, the only thing she could think of to do to stop herself from fainting again was to write in her journal. She thumbed through the pages, shuddering as she read the most recent entries.

--

Friday

_I know I said I was gonna stop writing in this thing. It's pathetic, really. Keeping a journal. But there's something wrong with Dib, so it's not really a journal, I guess. More like observations or something. Not that I care about him or anything like that, he's just bugging me. He invited his 'friend' around today, but when I came home, he was sitting alone at the table with a horoscope magazine and two plates of Pop-Tarts. He went running off about half an hour ago. Don't know where. _

Saturday

_When I woke up today, it said on the news that Zita had been murdered. She was a bitchy girl in Dib's class. I hated her guts, so I don't care that she's dead; she told me she'd seen Dib talking to himself, but not like he usually does. She said he was talking as though he thought there was somebody else there. Either way, the box room stank, as usual, so I got him to clean up his dorky paranormal crap. Weird thing was, after he did it, he locked the door. And it still stinks. He says he can hear Dad muttering in there. Dad hasn't come home for three months, so I don't know what he's on about. Weirdo. _

Sunday

_Dib was out for most of today. When he came back home, he sat down on the couch and started arguing with thin air about Zim and his leaders. He's really creeping me out. I think he might actually be going crazy. If he is, and someone notices, they might look into us. If they find out that Dad's been away working for three months, we'll be put in care. I'm not gonna live in a home. I'll never get to play on my GS3; they'll make me share with orphaned brats. Stupid insane brother..._

Monday

_There was an assembly for Zita at school today. It completely sucked. This is why it makes more sense to play video games than have friends. They can't get murdered. Dib snuck out of school as well. Weird; he never usually does stuff like that. He came home really late, said something about that fat Goth teacher coming to talk to dad. Great; another person who could get us put in come. It's kinda weird though, 'cause when Dib told me she was coming, I was really worried. I mean, if he is crazy, he'll be taken away. I wouldn't be able to handle a care home. It'd be even worse on my own. Crazy or not, I guess he is still my brother. _

Tuesday

_Stayed up 'til four in the morning reading dad's old psychology book. Now I know he's crazy, but still... he acts as though there really is someone talking to him. Sometimes I wonder if he really can see someone. Ugh, what am I saying? I'm catching his insanity. Great. He came down and sat with me for a while. I fell asleep, and Zim turned up. His arm is messed up. I kicked him out; the last thing I need is two insane morons running around. Ms Cross never came round today. I guess that's a good thing. _

Friday

_Dib hasn't gone to school for two days now. He's been sitting in his room, with all the lights turned off. I don't know if he's been eating, but sometimes I hear him crying. Two other people haven't been coming to school either. Zim, but that's nothing new; sometimes he doesn't show up for days on end. But also Ms Cross. I think it's a little too neat that she never showed up to see dad, and now she seems to have disappeared. Dib went off to Zim's base earlier. He came back laughing, which creeped me out. It was like... high-pitched. Hysterical. He was saying something about Zim and a pink apron. I dunno. Whatever's happening, it's not right._

When Gaz finished reading, she picked up her pen with a trembling hand. She wasn't sure how she was going to go about wording the horror that she had seen. She felt helpless for the first time in many years. She found herself wishing she had gone to the Christmas Ball, or just stayed out for longer. Maybe if she had come home later, she wouldn't have bothered to open the door on her old childhood fear. She sighed, hearing her breath scream in her throat in a tuneless whistle. Finally, she stood up. She wanted to look in Dib's room. Or at least, she felt she had to, if she wanted to find out what was going on around here.

--

It was eight o'clock, and the Christmas Ball had begun at the Hi-Skool. Dib and Emma had stayed out in town for the whole day, doing nothing in particular. They had come to the school at half past seven, as the students had kept their Ball outfits there, and they needed to get changed. Now that they were ready, Dib stood outside the hall, waiting for Emma to meet him. He was wearing a tux that was much too big for him now. He had lost a lot of weight. He heard many jeers as people went past him, but they washed over his head as background noise. The still frame on the computer was still stuck in his mind. When he looked up and saw Emma, it faded, but did not completely disappear.

She was wearing a simple black dress with small sleeves, and her long hair was loose as always. The only thing she had done to it was brush it so that it was smooth and silky instead of the usual tangled mess that hung down past her shoulders. She smiled at him, slipping her hand into his, and they walked into the hall together. Dib didn't notice the odd looks he was given by the people that were still outside the hall. Even if he had, he wouldn't have understood why he was being given them, not until later, at least. The Christmas songs that played were performed by a live band, and chatter filled the room warmly, almost erasing all bad thoughts from Dib's mind.

There was a plastic fountain that sent a red flurry of punch cascading down into people's cups. Food was set out on the long tables, and paper plates bookended the refreshments in abundance, inviting people to take as many as they wanted; it was only the environment that they would hurt. A real classy affair. Dib drank two cups of punch, but Emma declined politely. Again, the puzzled looks that people gave Dib went unnoticed, and he went on his way, chatting to Emma, filling his plate with the party-food that stretched out for miles along the wall. As they walked, Dib heard an odd, low chuckling, followed by a bovine voice that he knew well. He looked up and felt a pang of guilt.

Gretchen stood by the table, wearing a long purple dress, with her hair swept into a bun. Her now perfect teeth gleamed brightly as she smiled a beautiful, youthful smile, and she continued to laugh at the joke her partner had made until she looked up and saw Dib. As she did so, her face fell, and her partner turned to see who she was looking at. Her partner was Keef.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Emma said in a low voice, melting into a crowd of people and completely disappearing from sight. Dib smiled slightly at Gretchen, and she looked back sadly.

"You came. So you have a partner after all," she said, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I wasn't lying, Gretchen. I promised Emma first. I'm really sorry. Still, you've got... Keef," he replied, nodding at Keef, who looked as though he would explode from pure chipper.

"Hey, Dib! Who's Emma, anyway? I've never heard of her," Keef began, without pausing for an answer. He stood there, spewing out a long string of excited questions whilst all Dib could do was stand, blink, and feel incredibly sorry for Gretchen. Keef carried on, "Is Zim here? Did he get a partner? D'you wanna dance with me and Gretch when they play the slow song? Where is your partner, anyhow?"

Finally, Dib saw an opening, cut in, and told Keef that no, he didn't think Zim was here, and even if he was, he doubted he would get a partner. Emma was the new kid who had joined the school about three months ago, and she was in the bathroom at the moment, though he was pretty sure she wouldn't mind dancing with Keef and Gretchen. That was, of course, if it was okay with Gretchen as well. Gretchen's face flushed and she looked determinedly at the floor.

It was at that moment, as though on cue, that the band started to play the slow song. Boys grabbed their partners and started to slowly gyrate around the floor, staring into each other's eyes with cringing soppiness. Keef grabbed Gretchen's hand ecstatically and pulled her into the middle of the room, despite her protests. Dib looked around the room, feeling dimly left out, and Emma appeared before his eyes as though he had summoned her from thin air, weaving out of the crowd to get to him.

"D'you wanna dance?" he asked hopefully, and she smiled.

"No," she said simply, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I... Why not?" Dib asked, his face falling, flushing hotly.

"People will look at us," she said, and he sighed, almost impatiently.

"So? You really think I care at the moment, Emma? My dad's..." he trailed off, before muttering, "It might make me feel better."

A doubtful smile crept onto her face, but she let him take her hand and lead her into the middle of the room to find Keef and Gretchen. When he reached them, he slipped his hands around Emma's waist, looking awkwardly into her eyes. As they started their own slowly rotating dance, Dib saw that Keef and Gretchen had stopped dancing and were staring at them. Gretchen's face was an ugly, blotchy red colour. As he carried on dancing, tears started to spurt down her face. She turned and ran through the crowd that was now staring at Dib and Emma, sobbing loudly. The band noticed that nobody was dancing anymore and stopped playing. Dib and Emma stopped too, frozen in the last step of their dance. Dib looked up to see that the whole room was staring at him in awe.

"What the hell is he _doing_?" a shrill voice asked the room.

"_Look_ at him!" another catcalled.

Then the laughter started.

Dib looked in the mirror that was hung on one wall of the hall and felt horror spread through him. He and Emma were frozen in the same dance pose that they had been in when the band stopped. There was only one difference in the image that was reflected back at him. In the mirror, Dib stood alone, his arm stretched out. When he looked back, his arm was around Emma's waist. But in the mirror, Emma had no reflection. She was invisible.

--



Gaz came back into her room, feeling queasily close to tears. She held in her hand a black and white striped notebook. She had found it in Dib's room along with something else that... but she couldn't think that. Not yet. She picked up a pen, bringing it down to the page of her journal and missing the line that had been ruled for her writing. She bit her lip and tried again, this time stabbing a hole in the paper. _Third time's the charm_, she thought hysterically, and she brought the nib down slowly, with intense concentration. She started to write a final journal entry:

Saturday

_My dad is dead. I don't know how long for, but I'm guessing probably three..._

The front door slammed open and Dib walked in, calling her name in a voice that was cracked and unsteady. She dropped the pen in shock.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. I updated a little faster than usual this time, but I'm excited to get the story out to you. Like I said, everything shall be coming together very soon!**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben.**


	22. Dib’s Journal

Chapter 21

Dib's Journal

Gaz walked to the top of the stairs, looking down at Dib reluctantly. He stared back up, his face stark and white, blotched with tearstains. His eyes were rimmed with red, and the dark circles under them made them look like empty hollows in his face. He was trembling and soaked to the skin from the snowstorm that was raging outside. It had started shortly after she had opened the door on the corpse of her father, and it didn't look as though it was going to stop. The idea of being snowed in with the body and Dib, who was obviously insane, did nothing to improve Gaz's mood.

"Gaz?" he repeated in the same wavering voice, threatening to burst into tears, staring at her desperately. He whipped around and hissed furiously to thin air, "You shut up! Gaz, you have to help me, I..."

Gaz started to walk down the stairs and he stopped talking, seeing something in her face. When she reached him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. His hand was like a block of ice in her fingers, but she didn't relinquish her grip. His fingers were limp, so the whole effect was that of holding a glove that had been in the freezer for half an hour. When they were in the kitchen, she pulled out a chair for Dib, who sank slowly into it with the same broken expression on his face. She sat opposite him, never breaking eye contact. It was like trying to stare out a corpse, though, because he didn't seem to see her at all, gazing straight at her as though he could see through the back of her head. Eventually he spoke, his voice bland and expressionless.

"I think I'm going crazy, Gaz," he said, "But I need to tell you something, and you have to believe me. Dad's going around killing people. He killed Zim's leaders the other day, and I think there's a body in the spare room."

"There is," Gaz replied in a trembling voice, "I opened it. Dad's not killing people, Dib. He's dead. He's the body in the spare room. And I think... I think he's been there for a long time."

Dib stared at her numbly, before slowly shaking his head.

"No. No, Gaz, it can't be! I _saw_ him on the video!" he said, his voice rising. He turned to his right, glaring at the empty seat next to him and saying in the same angry hiss, "I told you to _shut up_, Emma!"

"That's another thing," Gaz started, "Dib, this Emma. She's..."

"Invisible?" Dib asked sharply, before continuing in a hysterical voice, "Just a little detail she forgot to mention. You know how things slip your mind, Gaz? Hey, Dib, I'll hang out with you. Oh, by the way, if you talk to me, people will think you're insane. That okay by you?"

He started to laugh the same high-pitched, insane chuckling that had creeped Gaz out so many times before. Gaz stared at the empty seat, suddenly terrified. She stood up, scraping her chair backwards and went up to her room, grabbing the black and white jotter from her desk and running back down the stairs. Dib was still chuckling weakly, and she threw the book down in front of him.

"This was in your room. I read the entries," she said, "I think some of them might have slipped _your_ mind, Dib."

She went slowly back upstairs as Dib started to read. She hadn't told him that she knew who the _real_ killer was. He would find out when he finished reading anyway. She hadn't told him about what he had found under his bed, either. It was slung on the floor of her bedroom now, and she sat on her bed, staring at it. Dib had cut over her before she had been able to tell him about Emma, and maybe that was for the best, because she still wasn't sure if she was right about that yet. She scribbled another sentence in her journal, before hearing a noise behind her. As she turned, she saw that the bloody lab-coat that had been under Dib's bed was gone. The shadowy figure in the doorway was wearing it.

--

Dib stared at the book, feeling dread as he opened the cover. He immediately recognised his own handwriting, though he didn't remember writing the words that he was reading.

_This journal is the property of Dib Membrane_.

And yet, Dib didn't think he had ever kept a journal before. Or at least, he didn't remember keeping one. The first entry was dated just over three months ago.

_My name is Dib Membrane, and I'm a paranormal investigator. Or at least, I will be, some day. I bought this book to write up my observations of an alien that lives in my neighbourhood. His name is Zim. Well, that's what I thought I was buying it for. I guess the real reason is because I wanted to confide in someone. My studies mean that I don't really have time for friends. Not that anyone ever wanted to be friends with me anyway. I've tried to confide in people before. I think that my Biology teacher, Mr. Raise is trustworthy enough to tell about Zim, and he was really enthusiastic when I did. Just recently he's been talking about writing a study on Zim to send to the authorities, which means that one person believes me. But that doesn't stop me from feeling lonely. My sister, Gaz, and my dad, the famous Professor Membrane, don't believe me. Sometimes I get the feeling they don't like me either._

Dib stared at the page. It was true; how had he forgotten about Mr. Raise's paper? Had it ever been sent off, or had he met his end before he could finish it? Dib couldn't remember. He turned the page.

_Monday_

_I was thinking about who I would make friends with, if I had the time. Nobody in my class, or even my school, seems to be right. I had though, just once, that as we're both outcasts, maybe Zim and I could put our differences aside, but that's stupid. I'd rather die than be friends with Zim, though I'd prefer him to die than be friends with me. If I had a friend, or a fellow investigator, they'd have to like the same things as me. Maybe they'd be a girl. None of the other guys like me, but Gretchen does, so maybe it'd be more likely for a girl to be friends with me. They might have a father like mine; a famous professor. But maybe her father would be more interested in space than mine. We'd have lots in common. Maybe she'd have glasses, like me. And she wouldn't be image-obsessed, like the __other girls in my class, but she'd be more interested in studying. She'd believe me, and she'd be able to give me advice. _

_That'd be great._

Dib re-read this entry. He had just described Emma before he had even met her. How was that possible? He turned the page to the next entry.

_Wednesday_

_Mr Raise asked me for some photos and written theories about Zim today, so I'll be included in his paper! When this comes out, I'll be famous! The Swollen Eyeball network will _have_ to believe me now! Oh, and guess what? Mr Raise told me that _he_ is also a member of the SE! I've been working in the same room as a SE member three times a week for years now! It just goes to show that you never know who is a believer. _

Dib turned to the next page. This entry was written in frantic, cramped writing that scrawled over the page, completely missing the lines.

_Thursday_

_I did something today. Something really, really bad. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't really know how to explain, so I'll just go ahead. Dad found..._

As Dib read on, everything became clear to him, and the force of the memory was so strong that he fainted clear away. He dropped the book in shock, blacking out in his seat. As he slumped, unconscious, over the table, the memories danced in front of his eyes in some hideous montage.

--

_The Professor had come home from work early, in a terrible rage. He had stormed up the stairs, his eyes blazing behind his goggles._

Son, _he screamed,_ Son, you come here! What's this I hear about you and your teacher? You're writing a report about aliens? You're sending it to the authorities? Don't you know your insane antics will ruin me?

But Dad,_ he had replied, _It's true! Zim's an alien! When people see that, it'll open up a new field of science! They'll...

Don't you see what you're doing? _the professor yelled back,_ You're wasting your life! You're going to wind up a failure!

YOU'RE the failure, _Dib had screamed, _YOU don't even have faith in your own SON!

You're no son of mine, _he had replied in a low voice._

_Sorrow and anger had washed over him in a rage. He had hitched his breath in a scream and rushed forwards, pushing his dad with all of his strength. The professor only had time to draw in a gasp before he fell down the stairs from top to bottom with a terrible _

Thudathudathudathuda THUD!

_And then there had been silence. Dib had gone down the stairs to see that his dad had broken his neck. He stared blankly up at his son, his mouth still open in the gasp of his last breath. Dib had stood there for half an hour, staring back, knowing only that his dad was dead, that he had killed him and that Gaz was coming home soon. Not knowing what else to do, Dib had started to drag the body up the stairs towards the spare room._..

--

Gaz stared in horror at the figure in the doorway. It started to walk towards her, and she saw the knife glinting gently out of the corner of her eye. Her heart pounded crazily in her chest, and she started to back away, her hands searching blindly for something to defend herself with. She found nothing.

"D-D-D-D..." she stuttered, and the figure chuckled.

"Dib hasn't got a clue what's going on," it said darkly, "But something tells me that _you_ do. Something tells me that you know way too much. I don't think Dib will be too happy about me doing this, but I don't think there's any other way. Someday he'll see that I'm doing this for his own good, but today isn't the best day for him to find out. He's already pretty mad at me, you see."

"I..."

"The name's Emma Dribben, by the way," it continued, "I've been round here many times, though you haven't ever seen me, have you? How ironic that I'm going to be the last thing you ever see."

The knife flashed, and Gaz crumpled, falling to the floor of her room in agony. It was a hot, burning, feeling, and she put her hand to her chest. A long, vertical line had been slashed there, straight down to her stomach. Her hand came away dripping crimson, but that couldn't be _her_ blood, there was too much for it to be _her_ blood, there was so much blood and... Another slash silenced her thoughts. This one went horizontally, forming a cross with the other open wound. Gaz reached out with her bloody hand, clasping on the coat that the figure was wearing and leaving a scarlet handprint that smeared right the way down to the hem of the material as she fell over forwards. Though her eyes were open, she could no longer see. Then everything ended in a swirling darkness as her blood spread across the floor.

--

Dib came round, trembling, to complete silence. The house was dark and empty. He lifted his head up, looking at the book that he had passed out on. He felt sick and terrified now that he remembered what had happened to his dad. But then, who had it been that he had seen on the video? He groaned and turned the page of his journal before he could read it again. He stared at the next double-page, confused. There was one more page filled with his cramped writing, scribbled in blotchy, black biro. The next page was written in Emma's swirling, curved hand in blue ink. He read the page of his own writing in mounting fear, remembering an English lesson about anagrams. He remembered how the teacher had quoted a famous saying about how an anagram never lies. Examples were _Elvis - Lives_, _Mother in law - Woman Hitler_ and _Clint Eastwood - Old West Action_.

Written at the top of the page were the words: _Dib Membrane_

Underneath was this: _Em Dibmbrane_

Then: _Emma Dibbrne_

Then: _Emma Dribben_

Finally, to clarify this, was the line: _Dib Membrane - Emma Dribben_

Dib stared at this one line for ages, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Underneath this was one final journal entry before the writing swapped to Emma's. It was dated one week after the previous entry Dib read it several times, feeling a rush of cold surge through his body. It was impossible. He knew it was, but he couldn't help but believe it. He was insane.

_A new girl came to the class today. Her name's Emma and her father is the famous Professor Douglas Dribben, all the way from England. He's set up an observatory where the old warehouse was. Either way, she's going to help me with the accident dad had last week. She says she's going to make sure nobody finds out about it. She says everything's going to be alright from now on. And I think she's right..._

_**This journal is the property of Emma Dribben.**_

Dib looked up in shock as Emma walked into the room. She had been smiling, but the second she saw what Dib was reading, the smile dissolved. Her face paled, and they stood staring at each other in silence. She opened her mouth to speak, before closing it, seemingly having lost her nerve, or ability, to voice what she wanted to say. Dib stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off her. He suddenly hated her more strongly than he had ever hated her before.

"You're just part of my imagination?" he asked, and she sighed.

"It's more than that," she said, before replying earnestly, "We're just like melons and lemons, see? They're so different, but you just rearrange the letters and we're the same thing! And... I _am_ you, Dib. We are one, and..."

For the second time that evening, Dib blacked out.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben and Mr Raise.**


	23. Fading

Chapter 22

Fading

_I think Dib's schizophrenic. _

This was the last sentence that Gaz had written in her journal shortly before Emma had come in, and Emma had read this sentence shortly before she left the room, skipping lightly over the crumpled body on the floor as though she were playing a game of hopscotch. It was more than a game to her, though. She hadn't planned on Dib finding out about her in this way, and though she had known that Gaz was suspicious, she hadn't bargained on her actually hitting the nail on the head.

Gaz had been completely correct in her last minute, terror-filled reasoning. Dib was schizophrenic, and his second personality was also his only friend. Emma knew exactly what she was, but this intelligence meant little to her. She had known even before she had progressed to taking over Dib's consciousness completely, but she was loyal and dutiful to her post. In the horror-glazed week that had followed the death of Professor Membrane, Dib had gone around talking to himself as he puzzled over what to do. Subconsciously, the side of his conscience that answered his questions materialised in his imagination as an invisible friend. However, Dib had known back then that he was talking to thin air, and Emma had often answered back in ways that (_What_ _do I know? I'm just your imagination_) had reminded him of this fact.

His paranoia and despair, as well as his ever-increasing dependence on the answers of his conscience soon meant that the person that he knew that he was imagining was taking on a frightening reality in his mind. As he put his trust in her answers so completely, Emma found that she was able to make Dib do what she instructed by taking over his consciousness. The question that Dib so often asked her was 'What am I going to do about dad?' and her answer to this was eternally 'Nobody must find out'. And so she began to ensure that nobody ever would. Because every time Dib blacked out, she was free to take the wheel.

Of course, Dib wouldn't know any of this when he woke up, and maybe it was better that way. Now that she was so intent on helping Dib, she was beginning to wonder if it would be best if Dib didn't find out himself. She could make him forget. She always could. And yet, that hadn't worked out so well for her this time. He would find out eventually, remember everything again, and his trust in her would begin to fade. If that happened, then she would do likewise, and Emma wasn't so sure that she liked that idea. She knew this though. She was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do when Dib came round.

--

Dib came round, staring around his room and groaning. He was, for want of a better phrase, freaking out. He knew he had been in the kitchen when he had passed out. And he knew he had passed out because he had just discovered that Emma Dribben was, in fact, Dib Membrane, and as _he_ was Dib Membrane, then he must be clinically insane. Apart from this, the only thing that he felt he knew and could still count on was that Emma had one hell of a lot of explaining to do, though at the moment, she was nowhere to be seen.

"EMMA!" he shouted, hearing his voice crack as it was forced painfully across his dry throat.

Emma walked into his room silently, looking as though she had been waiting at the door. Her nervous, slightly baleful smile had returned, and she sat on the end of his bed, avoiding eye contact. Dib stared at her, and thought (_look at me, look at me, just look up you stupid..._) about what he wanted her to do, and she looked up immediately, though with a reluctant expression on her face. Dib sighed inwardly, thinking at her to stand up and finding that she did as he wanted. If he could control her through thoughts, then surely she didn't exist. As if to clarify this, she cleared her throat and started what seemed to be a well-rehearsed speech.

"Listen, Dib. You've probably guessed that I don't exist in the... sane sense of the word. In fact, you'd be pretty stupid if you hadn't," she began, looking up as if hoping for a smile, or even a laugh. When she found none, she continued, "But you knew that before, even if you forgot. Before I became a part of you."

"All this time you knew you were imaginary and you didn't tell me?" Dib asked coldly, mentally cringing at how ridiculous it sounded.

"You never asked," she replied, almost nonchalantly, and Dib felt anger rise in the pit of his stomach. He stood up suddenly and shoved her, and as he did so he noticed that he felt her give, as though she wasn't entirely solid any more.

"Where's Gaz?" he asked, changing the subject before she could annoy him further, "I want to tell her about all of this."

The look on her face was all that Dib needed. His face fell, and suddenly the darkness and steadily deepening silence of the house was overwhelming. He ran from the room and down the corridor before kicking Gaz's door open. He cried out as he saw her on the floor, slumped in the blood, and ran forwards, kneeling beside her. Her arms were spread out in cruciform fashion, and he turned her over carefully. There was an expression of mild shock on her face; no more. Her eye were wide, her lips slightly parted, the eyebrows raised. He pulled her towards him, groaning deep in his throat without realising he was doing it as he hugged her to his chest. She was stiff and cold and the congealing blood that coated her clothes left a tacky film on his shirt.

As Dib hugged his sister, he reflected that this was the first time he had ever done so, and that he wanted her to hug him back so much. He found himself rocking slowly, as though he was soothing a baby to sleep. Though he felt he had been there for a matter of minutes, it was actually two hours later when Emma came in. She shook her head sadly as she watched him.

"She's dead, Dib," she said quietly, and he froze where he sat, staring up at her. She gave him an uneasy glance before continuing, "Just like your dad. She found out. She was going to..."

"You killed my sister," Dib said in an emotionless voice, "And I think you'd better leave now."

Emma took a step forwards, fading even more as she did so. Dib thought maybe it was good. He didn't think he had ever hated somebody as much as her at that moment, not even Zim. Though, that meant he was hating himself. She knelt down next to him and touched his hand, looking into his face with grey eyes that were wide and shining.

"Please, Dib. I just want to help you. I'm your _friend_," she said, and he shook his head slowly.

"I can make new friends," he replied, and the strength that he found in his voice forced him to continue, "Even if they're imaginary, they'll still be better than you. You say you're trying to help me, and you're wrong. If you really wanted to help me, you'd stop killing people. You'd leave me alone."

"Then I'll leave you alone," she said, fading so that Dib could see the desk behind her, "But you have to know that no matter how many friends you make, they'll all say the same as me. Because they will eventually become me. They'll become you."

She disappeared before Dib could say anything else. He stared at the space where she had been, before hugging Gaz tightly once more. The house was dark and empty.

--

Zim sat on the couch, staring at the blank television screen with the hypnotised, unseeing fascination of a person resigned to their doom. There was no way that he could see for him to get out of this alive. He had stashed the bodies of his leaders in the cryogenic freezers that he had in his lab, though he wasn't sure why. He wouldn't be able to bring them back. And yet he felt that it would be catastrophic for him to dump them in the incinerator. Not that it mattered. He wasn't sure how long it would be before the control brains scanned to see where the Tallest were; time differences between galaxies and all that, but he knew that the second they found that the PAK signals were showing no life, he was dead. Naturally, he was a little depressed.

He was trembling, not from fear, but from intense and overwhelming craving. His skin prickled and his hands twitched spastically in his lap, his fingers popping plastic blisters that did not exist for pills that he could only dream of. Well, he didn't have to dream of them. He could go back to the warehouse. He could get more. Oh, and he would. He would get so many more of those little white pills; he would crunch them onto his tongue and sense the bitter taste of height and power once more. Though, he had noticed, he wasn't growing any more. Perhaps he had reached the fission point of the pills, and why not? He could only grow so much, even with the assistance of drugs. His body was done with them.

Yet his mind screamed for more. He stood up on legs that seemed would never support him and staggered to the door, grasping the handle as though it were a life support. He opened it and made his trembling way out into the night, starting his long pilgrimage to the warehouse. As he passed Dib's house, he looked up. Only one light was on, and there was a tall figure standing in the window. Zim squinted, noting that the figure's head was resting on one shoulder. It was also standing extremely still. Slightly chilled, though for reasons his drug-starved mind couldn't understand, he thought that maybe he had seen that figure standing in the same window weeks before. He turned away and carried on his journey.

As he made his way up the hill, another familiar figure appeared in front of him, illuminated by the pooling light of the street-lamp. Zim stared at him for a moment before realising faintly that it was the hobo that he had met once before, on this same path. The hobo raised a hand in greeting, and Zim stared indifferently at him as he continued walking; considering him a meaningless distraction on his mission for pills. As he reached him, the hobo grinned.

"Hey there, man! Any spare change?" he asked amiably, and Zim continued to stare blankly as he walked on by. The hobo followed, slightly put out. "Whatzup? You 'kay there, buddy?"

"No talking, penniless alley-beast," Zim said distantly, "I must get to the warehouse immediately."

"Why?" the hobo, whose real name was John, though he could barely remember it himself, "You got to meet someone?"

"The pills are calling to me," Zim said, stopping and turning suddenly to face John with wide eyes, "Don't you hear them?"

"Oh man, dude, not you too," John said solemnly, "What did I tell you? You're gonna end up..."

"The smallest guy on earth?" Zim asked, "Maybe. But I'm fading, alley-man, and I can't let that happen. ZIM MUST NOT FADE!"

Zim pushed John out of the way and carried on at a faster pace, leaving him standing in the frigid night air, shaking his head sadly as he watched the alien walk onwards towards his new ruler.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben and Hobo John.**


	24. All Drugged Up and No Place to Go

Chapter 23

All Drugged Up and No Place to Go

The door of the warehouse creaked open and Zim went inside with a speed his trembling legs hadn't been able to achieve before now. But now that his prize was so close he seemed to have found his second wind, and he scrambled up the ladder to the bridge at the top of the cold metal walls. The small white bags lay in the corner, piled up as he had left them all those days ago. He smiled, running his tongue over his teeth in anticipation as he scuttled towards the pile and grabbed the nearest bag. He took a packet from it and squeezed the plastic blister, feeling the satisfying _pop_ as the pill burst out into his palm. He rolled it in his fingers before slipping it onto his tongue and savouring the bitter taste.

"I've missed you," he whispered softly.

As he made his way back out of the warehouse, carrying as many bags as feasibly possible, Zim felt more alive than he had since the Tallest had died. In fact, he thought, as he went past the alley where the concerned hobo lived, he wanted to stay like this. He wanted to stay alive. And so he began to formulate a plan in order to increase his lifespan. He would not be able to keep the control brains from scanning his base completely, but he could stall them until he came up with a way to prevent them from shutting him down. It was impossible for him to delete his memories; he didn't have the authority to do that. But he would come up with something, he assured himself as he chewed on another mouthful of paracetamol, because he was ZIM! He had come out of worse situations alive. He burst through the doors of his base, grinning triumphantly, his eyes aflame with his new zest for life.

"Compu-TER! Set up every defence system we have against alien... scanny... rays! Make sure you block any Irken technology from infiltrating the base!"

"Sure thing," the computer replied indifferently, and, after a pause, "Cyber force-fields in place. Will last for maybe one Earth day if Irken technology tries to hack it."

Zim nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He didn't know what he was going to yet, but he was pretty sure that he could get through this. But then again, a small voice said at the back of his mind, what use would it do? Even if you got out of this, you've been banished, remember? You'll just be free from the control brains, and trapped on this planet forever. Your secret of height isn't making you grow anymore, so you can't become the Tallest, and even if you did, you'd be... Zim narrowed his eyes and popped another pill. The voice shut up.

"GIR!!" he yelled, and silence answered him. Then he remembered that Dib had shut down GIR when he had killed his leaders. He had no doubts that it was him; he had seen the stinking Earth-boy killing others before the Tallest as well. He thought back, smiling slightly in spite of himself. These were scenes that had visited him many times over his drug-starved stupor, in dreams both good and bad.

--

_...Zim sitting at his desk, with only the biology teacher in the room with him. Dib burst in with his eyes ablaze, and the teacher looked at him slightly nervously._

Dib told me about your paper, sir,_ Dib said, and the Mr Raise's face flushed. He had not noticed the self-reference in Dib's sentence. _

It's for the best. So I don't mention you; who's going to know? _He replied with a small, embarrassed smile. _

Dib worked hard on those theories, and you're just claiming them as your own! _Dib said darkly, and pressed a button. The desk flew across the room, crushing Mr Raise against the wall, and the Dib had walked out of the room only to return and blame Zim..._

--

_...The reverend covering Zim in holy water and his contacts coming out, his wig falling off as he backed away in screaming agony. The reverend gasping in horror and Dib walking in, saying something like_

You didn't believe Dib before. You're probably gonna tell about your little discovery, right? Wrong. _Dib said, before grinning and producing the arrow from behind his back. There had been a squelching noise as Zim retreated from the church, and a dusty scream from ancient lungs as Dib stabbed him..._

--

_...Zim in the warehouse, stashing more pills when the Cross woman rushed in, followed closely by Dib, carrying the shovel that Zim had seen outside the door. She was sweaty and tearful, her face completely white but for the crimson patches on her cheeks. _

Dib! Dib, I saw your father, sweetheart! You've got to get help and I can help you! _She cried, out of breath and terrified. Dib narrowed his eyes._

Dib's not here right now, but I'll be sure to pass on the message, _he had smiled, before knocking her out cold with the shovel and starting to make his elaborate strangulation device. The funny thing was, he came back not too long afterwards, shouting and raving and trying to save her..._

--

Zim finished reminiscing as he finished fixing GIR, smiling proudly at his handiwork as the robot sat up and squealed in delight at the sight of his master. After instructing GIR to guard the base, and his pills, with his life, Zim decided to make another little trip out into the neighbourhood. He was going to pay Dib a visit, whether the insane little dirt-child wanted it or not. And so it was that for the second time that night, Zim made his way out into the dark. He made his way up to Dib's front door, glancing up at the window he had seen on his way to the warehouse. The dark figure still stood there with its back to the window, the head resting on the shoulder and looking oddly twisted.

It was the stillness of the figure that was chilling, Zim decided. He had seen it in that same position for weeks on end... nobody else seemed to have noticed, but Zim was no fool. Dib had killed before. Who was to say that he hadn't killed someone in his own home? Zim stared at the button mounted next to the door, suddenly nervous. Dib had already proven that he wasn't averse to killing an Irken or two; he had killed the two most powerful Irkens that Irk could boast. The chances, therefore, of him killing one of the least powerful, were high. Nonetheless, Zim reached out and pushed the button.

--

_Ding-DONG!_

The two tones of the bell chimed out in the Membrane house, and the last surviving member of the family opened his eyes blearily. He had fallen asleep in the middle of Gaz's room, still cradling her cold body. He groaned, looking at his sister with despair and guilty terror. Her eyes stared widely at him, silent and accusing. He pulled back the covers of her bed and lifted her up, placing her carefully into bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. He gently rolled down her eyelids with his fingers, trying not to apply too much force in spite of how stiff they were. He walked slowly out of the room, closing the door quietly.

_Ding-DONG!_

Dib had almost forgotten about the noise that woke him up, but the person outside clearly wasn't leaving without seeing him. Without one thought for his appearance, Dib walked slowly down the stairs towards the door. In some ways, maybe it was better for him that his visitor was Zim. His hair was messy and tousled and streaked with white from his now near-constant state of terror. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, sunken into his gaunt, tear-stained face. All of this gave him the impression of an anaemic insomniac who had just watched _Titanic_. Maybe that was the impression a stranger would have gone away with, had it not been for the splashes of slowly drying maroon that stained the front of his shirt and his hands.

_Ding-DONG!_

Dib opened the door suddenly and Zim gawked at his appearance openly, his eyes wide. Dib stared back, as shocked at Zim's appearance as Zim was of his, though, as neither of them knew what they looked like, neither of them understood the irony of the situation. Zim had neglected to put on his disguise, probably under the influence of the many handfuls of painkillers he had crunched. One of his antennas stood up proudly on his head, the other drooping flaccidly, and his crimson eyes had a slightly misty, distant look to them. However, it was the cloud of white powder that was crusted in the corners of Zim's mouth that attracted Dib's eyes. Finally his muddled mind placed it. It looked like the white dust that came off paracetamol tablets. Zim's hands were shaking, seemingly of their own accord. Dib knew the feeling.

"What do you want?" Dib asked after a long pause.

"I'm going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer very carefully. Did you or did you not murder my leaders and shut down my robot?" Zim said in a dangerous voice, and Dib could hear the alien's breath jittering in his throat. His eyes jerked in their sockets.

"No," Dib said quickly, and Zim slapped him across the face with enough speed to make the air hiss.

"FOOLISH HUMAN!" he cried, "It was a trick question, for I, the almighty ZIM already knew the answer! And now that you have lied to me..."

"It was Emma," Dib said quietly, cutting over Zim's sentence, "And I'm done talking to you now. Are you still taking those painkillers, Zim? Seems pretty stupid to me. Maybe you ought to get help."

He closed the door calmly in Zim's face and turned the key, bolting it shut. Then he walked into the living room and sat in the chair, touching his cheek lightly in the place Zim had slapped him. The Irken had taken some of his skin off he had hit him so quickly. There was a violently crimson mark that showed all of Zim's fingers perfectly. It hadn't hurt, though. Dib wasn't sure if he _could_ hurt anymore. Zim was still standing in front of the door, pondering what to do next. He wanted to make the Earth boy hurt, and yet he was cowering in his house like... a very cowering thing. Eventually he sighed and made his way back to the base, considering that, with all of the force fields and defences that were now in place against the control brains, he was doing the exact same thing.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. Titanic belongs to 20****th**** Century Fox. I own Emma Dribben. **


	25. Twinned With Insanity

Chapter 24

Twinned With Insanity

Dib walked up the stairs, his breath catching as he realised that he had let the spare room door drift open. He couldn't let that happen. He wasn't as worried about the smell now that Gaz was gone, but he was worried about something else getting out. It had been three days since Zim had appeared at his door and slapped him. During this time, Dib had been having bad dreams about his father's twisted form appearing at his door; ones that he did not want to come true. He slammed it shut with a resounding crash and rushed to his room. He sat on his bed and closed his eyes, listening to the various creaks as the house settled. He had taken to listening extremely hard to the house before he went to sleep; he didn't trust it.

_Creak_, and the floorboards in the kitchen slowly fall into place. _Ratatatatat_, and the washing machine builds up its cycle, though its load was a lot smaller in the absence of the Professor's soiled lab clothes and Gaz's various jeans and skirts. It was empty tonight but Dib set it regardless, wanting to hear its comfortingly familiar rattling. _Scritchascratchascritch_, and the branches of the bushes outside rustle against the window. All normal sounds, all safe. Then, _THUD._

Dib sat up. There shouldn't have been a thudding noise; there was never a thud. What could it have been? The idea that the noise had come from the spare room slowly meandered into his mind, and Dib lay back down queasily, pulling the covers up to his chin and pinning the blankets down under his feet to add to the safety of his bed. He snuggled down into this cocoon, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing deeply in order to try and rid himself of the thought, but the damage was done. The more he tried to deny it, the more certain he became that the thudding noise had come from the spare room. He strained to listen now, praying that he would hear it again and prove himself wrong, but now the house remained mockingly silent. He turned over, about to tell himself that it had all been in his mind when the voice spoke.

"_Son,_" it called throatily from the spare room, dragging out into an eerie echo. Dib froze, and it called again. "_Son! Come here._"

Dib clamped his hands over his ears, moaning low in his throat, and a new voice joined his father's.

"_Dib,"_ Gaz's voice crooned in an unfamiliarly welcoming tone, "_Come here, Dib, I want to talk to you._"

Dib stood up and slammed his door, wishing for all the world that it had a lock on it. After a while the voices ceased, though not before they had tried everything in their inventory to coax him out of the safety of his bed. Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, Dib woke up feeling just as tired as when he had gone to bed. He knew that he needed to talk to someone about what he had heard. But who was there left to talk to? He had no friends at school, he had killed his family and he had just kicked out his invisible friend. He remembered his hate-filled words to Emma, promising her that he could easily make new friends, even if they were imaginary. He considered that he was quite good at making friends. After all, he had written Emma's story from start to finish, giving her a history and a family, christening her with a meaningful name. But he wasn't feeling all too creative at the moment. He didn't think he would ever feel that creative again.

--

Location: The Massive

Somewhere Near Our Solar System

The technicians were getting restless. The Massive was on a set course to take over the universe, and they had been still for too long, waiting for the return of the Tallest so that they could set off once more. None of them were sure where their leaders were; they had been told little except that the Tallest had important business to attend and that the Massive must wait for them to return. They had taken the teleporter, though whether it was to a planet or a ship they did not know. Either way, they had not turned up, and if they were to take over Planety Rhond by the end of the week, they needed to set off. A door slid open, and the head technician walked in, looking slightly agitated.

"Has there been any word from the Tallest yet?" he asked, and the room was suddenly alive with shaking heads. He sighed; that was what he had been afraid of. Now he would have to take matters into his own hands, something that he wasn't very good at doing. He had only just been promoted to his higher rank, his predecessor having exploded in a freak nacho accident.

"Sir," a drone piped up, blinking her green eyes nervously, "We need to locate the Tallest soon, or we'll fall behind schedule."

"I know that!" he snapped, "I'm on it, okay? Computer, tell me the last recorded destination of the main teleporter."

"Planet Earth," the computer replied.

"Locate the receiving teleporter and contact the computer there. Inform them that the Tallest are required back here because..."

"Receiving teleporter cannot be located. Data bank shows that the only licensed teleporter on Earth belongs to exiled Invader Zim," the computer interrupted, and the technician narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Fine, fine, send the message to Zim's base then," he said impatiently.

"Base is protected by a blocking field. Cannot contact Invader Zim," the computer stated blandly.

The head technician groaned, sinking into a chair and massaging his temples. Why, why on Irk did everything have to be so complicated for him? Instructing the computer to hack the field, he sank back and watched the progress on the screen, feeling more and more infuriated as the bar jerked along slowly. If there was a blocking field then there was something that the exiled Invader was hiding. He didn't really care what Zim was doing; he was the laughing stock of the Irken Empire, but it was preventing him from contacting his Tallest, so it was his duty to look into it. If Zim thought he could stop the entire Irken Armada with a simple blocking shield then he was sadly mistaken.

--

The knock at the door echoed loudly, giving the impression that it had been inflicted with a sledgehammer rather than a fist. There was a slow, deliberate series of thumps, joined in harmony a few seconds later by a rapid succession of taps. Wondering who the hell was hailing him in such an annoying manner, Dib sat up and braved walking out of his room for the first time that day. The fact that the doors to the forbidden rooms were still shut fast only added to the already elevated adrenalin levels in Dib's blood. If they were shut, he couldn't see if they had moved or not.

The amount of knocking increased, and Dib could see two shadows through the small window of his front door. They were exactly the same height. He opened the door and was knocked backwards as a girl and a boy, both blindingly pale, burst in, laughing fit to burst. He stared at them, trying to place them in his jumbled memory. The girl had long black curls that flowed past her shoulders, and the boy had short, curly black hair. They were quite obviously twins; that much was obvious by the way they were completely in tune with each other, as well as their creepily similar appearances. They both had the same piercing grey eyes. Dib had seen those eyes before.

Now Dib knew who they were, and this recognition set off alarm bells in his mind, which he ignored. By recognising Emma's brother and sister, he was also recognising the fact that he wasn't quite as stable as he had hoped. Though, he thought with an ironic smile, he had figured that out last night. Yet he had been wishing for someone to confide in, and here were two, friendly and smiling faces, looking ready and eager to listen.

"Hey there, Dib," Damian said, grinning broadly, "We were just in the neighbourhood, and we thought we'd drop by, right Dee-Dee?"

"That's right," Desdemona said, flashing a smile that was just as broad as her brother's and flushing a violent shade of pink when Dib returned it.

"Did Emma send you?" Dib asked shrewdly, smiling even as he said it; their bouncy happiness was so alien to him at the moment that it was instantly infectious.

"'Course not," Damian said, waving his hand to emphasise the fact that his older sister was the least of his worries at the moment, "But she talks about you so much that she might as well have."

Dee-Dee seemed to find this extremely amusing and giggled shrilly, blushing further as Dib stared at her. Eventually, Dib invited them in properly, fixing coffee for three and sitting down with them. They had turned on _Mysterious Mysteries_, acting as though they had lived here all their lives. They reminded Dib of Emma, and this was the only thing that was keeping him from completely trusting them. He knew they were imaginary; even now that he had kicked Emma out that wasn't really an issue, but he was remembering what Emma had said before she had left; that anyone he made up would eventually become like her. After they had finished their coffee (the twins did not touch theirs), Damian asked if he could see Gaz, because Emma had told him that Dib's sister was his age.

The twins didn't wait for an answer, however, and made their way up the stairs towards Dib's room. Even as he cried out for them to stop, Dib sprinted after them, but they didn't listen. He heard the door creaking open above him, and felt dangerously close to tears. He skittered into the room to see the twins looking apprehensively at the form under the crimson covers. He stood in the doorway in silence, willing one of the twins to speak so that he could explain that he was insane and turf them out as he had already done to Emma. When they eventually turned to him, their reaction was very different to anything he could have anticipated.

"Emma _told_ me her hair was gorgeous," Dee-Dee sighed in an envious voice.

"She's really pretty when she's sleeping," Damian said pensively, and the last two words were all that Dib heard, the only two that mattered.

"You don't exist," Dib said quietly, and Damian shook his head.

"We may not exist in the... _physical_ sense of the word," he said, "But we do in the sense that really matters."

Dib nodded slowly. Emma had told him that she did not exist in the sane sense of the word, but her siblings existed in the sense that mattered. There had been many stages of Dib's mental degradation, but it would later be unanimously agreed that this newfound belief in his creations was the first step into the fission point. And so Dib sank back into the bliss of having friends once more, unaware that it would throw him even closer to breaking, like a Christian battling with the lions of his mind. Neither did he know what was happening to Zim at his own base or that it would be of extreme importance in the not-so-distant future. And yet Dib's journey to fission still needed something to start him on his way, which was handily provided by yet another knock at the door.

"Hello?" called Gretchen through the letter box, and the twins looked up. They scowled.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben.**


	26. Found Out

Chapter 25

Found Out

Zim was tired. He had staggered home the night before, his legs trembling with each step, barely making it to his front door. Now he lay on the couch in a stupor that was close to catatonia whilst the computer on the Massive slowly chipped away at his lifeline, not knowing, not caring. His own computer was battling in vain to try and keep the field up, though this would be eventually be impossible. Unchecked, GIR ran wildly around the base, creating havoc that was making the computer's job all the more difficult. Meanwhile, on the Massive, the bar showing the computer's progress at hacking the field was nearing 30 per cent full.

None of this bothered Zim because he was dreaming. Though Irkens could not dream as a rule, the drugs that he had been taking had been inducing hallucinations that Zim had dubbed 'dreams'. Most of the time they were merely memories, but sometimes they showed things that had not happened. These dreams confused him, maybe even scared him. They weren't normal. If Zim had wondered why he was in this state, and he had, he would have been even more scared to know that his previous idea that his body had taken in as much of the drug that it could was correct. His blood was completely saturated with painkillers, and his PAK was working overtime to try and purify it. However, as he continued to take more, it was becoming harder and harder for the life-support to continue, thus he had less energy.

As he dreamed, he saw the Dib-monkey standing in front of him, holding out his hand. He desperately wanted to grab the hand, but he could not reach it. The ghostly Dib suddenly dropped through the air where he stood, and Zim stirred in his sleep, moaning slightly. As the vision of Dib began to fade out of sight, it turned away from Zim. There was something wrong with him, but Zim couldn't work out what it was. He twitched on the couch, and the computer's voice echoed dimly around his head, barely discernible from the silence in the base.

"...Zim! Master! The Massive's mainframe computer is hacking our field! Master!"

"Hmm? Wha..." he mumbled, unable to string the sentence together.

Zim opened his eyes, finding that he had to use an incredible amount of effort just to roll back his eyelids. The computer repeated its message, and Zim lay there, waiting for his jumbled thoughts to start to make sense. The Massive was hacking the field. The field was important somehow, but the exact reason eluded him at the moment. But the Massive hacking it... that was bad. He needed to stop that from happening, but how?

"Make... Make another..." he murmured after an age, unsure of whether he was thinking this or speaking it.

"Well... I could create a smaller field inside the original one, as an extra layer of protection," the computer mused, and set about this task, wondering in its artificially intelligent brain why it was bothering to protect a master who had all but killed himself anyway. Still, not one to disobey orders, it continued the fight. Zim closed his eyes again, wanting nothing else than to fall back into oblivion. Before he did, he muttered one last thing.

"It was a PAK," he breathed, too quietly even for himself to hear.

--

Damian rounded on Dib, grabbing him by the shoulders. Desdemona stood next to him, her eyebrows drawn together, her pert red mouth twisted into a grimace. Downstairs, Gretchen called out again, and Dib made to turn towards the door. Damian pulled him back, pulling Dib's face so close to his that Dib was sure that he was going to kiss him. However, to his relief, he spoke to him instead in a slow voice that emphasised each word.

"Whatever you do, Dib, don't open that door," he said, his grey eyes narrowed.

"Dib! Please! I want to talk to you... about the ball," Gretchen called nervously, and Dib broke away from Damian's grip, striding down the stairs with the twins running after him, practically screeching at him to stop. Desdemona sounded as though she was going to burst into tears. He took no notice, hastening his stride and getting down the stairs in double time with the twin's screams echoing in his ears.

He reached the door and fumbled with the lock, opening it slowly. Gretchen stood there, shivering in the cold and looking nervous. She recoiled at Dib's appearance, staring at the heavy streaks of white in his hair. When he grinned widely at her she looked as though she might die of fright. She gave him a tiny twitch of the lips in return, evidently the best she could manage. When Dib invited her inside, her nose twitched as well, and she grimaced, evidently having smelt something disgusting. Dib led her into the living room, where she sat timidly on the couch, staring at the lamps that were in the shape of the Professor. Dib had always hated those lamps. There was a long silence, in which Dib glanced into the kitchen to see the twins gesturing wildly for him to come.

"Erm... Would you like a coffee?" he asked wildly, and Gretchen jumped in her seat at his voice. She nodded, and he hurried into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Desdemona asked, her eyes like great silver moons.

"I like Gretchen," Dib replied grudgingly, "She's mad at me and I want to try and..."

But he trailed off at the twin's faces; identical expressions of despair and annoyance. Their thin lips pressed together, brows furrowed, red spots standing out on their alabaster cheeks. Dib started to make coffee in a desperate attempt to gloss over the moment. His hands were trembling so hard that he shook the sugar all over the counter when he tried to dump it into the mugs, and he slopped boiling water all over his other hand when holding the kettle. He cried out, and Gretchen opened the door, looking in worriedly as he stood there, gasping in pain. She hurried over and led him to the sink, running cold water over his hand as he watched her silently, his eyes showing his gratitude.

Gretchen continued to make the coffee as Dib sat at the kitchen table. The twins took up two of the other seats, Damian looking worried, Desdemona glaring at Gretchen with obvious hatred. They whispered to him as he sat there, telling him to throw her out before something happened, that it wasn't too late now, so he needed to act now before it was. He ignored them, and eventually Gretchen sat in the free seat, opposite Dib. As the twins, on either side of him, continued their whispering, Dib thought of them as the angel and devil on his shoulders, only this time they both gave the same advice.

"I've thought about the ball," Gretchen said quietly, her foghorn voice almost feminine in her obvious anguish, "I thought maybe you were being mean to me. You were trying to make me look like an idiot, saying you would rather go alone than with me."

"Gretchen..." Dib began, but she continued over the top of him, determined to finish the speech that she had obviously rehearsed beforehand.

"But then I thought that maybe you weren't. Keef said you looked really surprised when everyone started laughing at you. And you haven't been in school for so long that I thought maybe there's something wrong. So I came to see you," she finished, rather lamely, and there was another silence.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, taking heed at last of Damian's frantic instructions, and they sat, staring at each other awkwardly. When Gretchen asked why Gaz hadn't been in school either, he continued in a hurried voice, "She's been ill. She's sleeping at the moment, but Dad's been working, so I've... taken care of her," he finished quietly, and Gretchen nodded understandingly.

They sipped their drinks, not daring to look each other in the eye. At first, Dib started on a long and meandering monologue about school and lessons, about how annoying Zim was and about the latest episode of Mysterious Mysteries, which Gretchen eventually began to contribute to until she no longer looked uncomfortable and uneasy and stopped sniffing the air with a look of mild revulsion on her face. The twins sat there, silent and stone-faced, matching glares on their pale faces. Dib wondered how Gretchen didn't notice the chill that seemed to radiate from them, but said nothing to break the wonderful event that was occurring; an actual conversation with an actual human being.

"D'you mind if I use your bathroom?" Gretchen asked shyly after some time.

"Yes! You do mind!" Damian hissed.

"Tell her to go home!" Desdemona cried, her voice rising to a shout. Gretchen sat there mildly, not noticing the protests of their unseen companions.

"Sure, go ahead," Dib replied, and she scraped back her chair and left the room, despite the feral shrieking of Emma's siblings.

--

Location: The Massive

The Outskirts of Planet Earth 

There was an elated mood among the technicians on the Massive, due to the fact that the computer had almost finished hacking into Zim's base. There hadn't been anything remotely exciting since the last planet that they had taken over; the prospect of taking in Zim for questioning about why he had blocked out his leaders was extremely interesting, to say the least. They were popping plenty of popcorn to eat when they watched Zim's downfall. As the large bar of colour filled in the box that it 

had been chipping away at, there was a cheer that filled the room; jets of soda arched through the air only to be cleaned up by service drones, and snacks flew. The head technician, grinning broadly, stood up and cleared his throat.

"Computer! Contact the base of exiled Invader Zim," he said, his voice ringing out clearly through the anticipation of his co-workers.

"Base is protected by a blocking field. Cannot contact Invader Zim," the computer stated once more, and a yell of frustration echoed down all of the corridors of the Massive as the head technician smacked his head against the wall. Zim could play his little games, but in the end all he would achieve was to spark the wrath of the Armada. When they got him, they would make him pay.

--

The kitchen was silent, and had been since Dib had yelled at the twins to shut up, threatening to punch Damian in the face when he had shown signs of wanting to run after Gretchen. The three teens at the table sat as statues, staring up at the ceiling as they strained to hear noises upstairs. The toilet flushed. Water rushed in the sink, and then the door opened. There were footsteps, and then a pause. The footsteps changed direction. Even as Dib consulted his mental map of his home, there was a sharp intake of breath from Damian, and Desdemona uttered a shrill "_No!_" as they continued in the direction of the spare room. Dib was on his feet before the door creaked open, and he was at the bottom of the stairs by the time that Gretchen's bovine screams first crystallised in the air. She had found out.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben.**


	27. Roaring

Chapter 26

Roaring

Dib paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching silently as Gretchen stopped screaming and backed away from the door, her face green and terrified. She did not notice him in her plight to get as far away from the spare room as she could, continuing to back away until she had backed up against the door to Gaz's room. It opened slowly behind her and Dib felt any hope that he might be able to make the situation right again drain away at the sound of yet another shriek. He ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time, rushing into the room after her. Gretchen did not scream when she saw him, as he had expected she would, instead bursting into a flood of desperate tears.

"Please stop," Dib whispered, hating her squeaky sobs, so much higher pitched than her normal voice. Her crying intensified, and she backed away from him.

"D-Don't... hurt... m-me," she stuttered, tears cascading down her cheeks. She backed against the bed and leapt away as though it had given her an electric shock. Gaz's body jerked slightly, and Dib's heart sped up. Gretchen carried on sobbing.

"Stop crying," he repeated, but she carried on regardless. The twins were standing in the doorway, and suddenly the noise from her crying seemed amplified, along with a roaring noise like radio static on full volume. Dib thought that maybe it was silence that he was hearing.

"I...don't want..." Gretchen began, still stumbling backwards. As she tripped, her purple hair shone under the lamp, sending off brilliant spots of light that were dazzling to Dib's eyes. The whole world seemed to have been morphed into high definition under the noise of the sobs and the screaming silence that went along with it. A teardrop rolled down Gretchen's nose and hung there.

"I said STOP CRYING!" Dib shouted, unable to make her comprehend how her wails were hurting his ears under their newfound hyper-sensitivity. As he shouted, his hand came down through the air, shattering the coffee-mug he had still been holding over her head and dousing himself with the last, sticky, lukewarm dregs as the mug exploded. Gretchen crumpled to the floor, a single droplet of blood rolling down her forehead in a slow, deliberate trail.

Dib sank to the floor as well, closing his eyes and resting his head against his knees. What to do now? What else could he do, now that Gretchen had seen his family, seen what had happened in these accidents of mentality? There was no way that he could let her go; she would tell someone and they would take Gaz and Dad away. They would put him away as well. He couldn't let that happen. Dib didn't like Emma, not now, but he agreed with her on that point. A hospital or a prison, not that there would be any difference between the two, would not be able to help him.

"Then get rid of her," a quiet voice whispered in his ear. He jumped, his eyes flying open. Desdemona was kneeling next to him, her lips dangerously close to his cheek. Damian sat in front of him, looking mildly embarrassed, but in agreement with his sister nonetheless.

"I can't," Dib said, not disagreeing with the idea; simply voicing his inability to carry it out, "You do it. Please."

"No!" Damian said, sounding disgusted, "We're not going to do your dirty work! Kill your own witnesses!"

"But Emma..." Dib began weakly, and Desdemona made a strangled sound of contempt at the name.

"Our sister is an idiot," she spat, "For all she knew, you might not have been able to do this in the first place. You need to do this for yourself so you can find out if you're strong enough to keep this up."

They disappeared without another word, leaving Dib alone with Gretchen. He glanced over to see that she continued her ragged breathing, her head lolling on her shoulders in her stupor. The trail of blood had reached her chin. It fell off and Dib watched the droplet falling, slowed down in his mind as it glistened in the light before finally blossoming in a small crimson explosion on her dress. He put his head back on his knees and closed his eyes as he tried to work out what to do.

--

A crimson splash erupted onto the wall of Zim's base, dripping thickly in long stripes down to the couch. A few droplets flicked onto the sleeping Irken's face, and the muscles of his cheeks twitched momentarily. He was completely out of it, too deep in his sleep to notice what was going on. Another splash hit the other wall, this one a vibrant turquoise. Some of it hit the computer screen, obscuring the display of how much of the second blocking field still remained un-hacked. Not that there was a lot to obscure. The Massive was working overtime deciphering the codes, and had almost completely eliminated the first shield. The next one would take less time to break down, though it would still hold them back. The computer was also attempting to set up a third, emergency shield inside this one, though it was sapping a lot of its power.

Occasionally, Zim would murmur in his sleep, and sometimes his brow would furrow, his mouth twisting into a grimace. There was nobody around to notice. His PAK had shut him into hibernation mode, conserving its energy so that it could try to purify his saturated blood. He was not troubled by the happenings inside his base, instead by what was going on in his mind, which was a mystery to most at the best of times. Maybe it was for the best, however, that he had no idea what was happening on the other side of his eyelids.

Toast was burning in the kitchen. The oven was full of guppies, and there was a large horse sitting on the table. The walls were caked in fifteen different kinds of filth, some of which did not bear repeating. Hanging from the ceiling of the living room was a motorised scooter, complete with a startled old lady still clinging onto the handlebars. All of this was GIR's handiwork, who was at present running wild with a paintball gun, firing it at every surface in the house. However, the computer had formulated a plan.

The Massive had DNA scanners on the mainframe computer as well as PAK scanners. It might be possible for it to trick the drones on the ship into stopping the hacking process for long enough for it to get the main field back online, if it could only get the master's SIR unit to pay attention. A laser erupted from the ceiling, severing one of Zim's claw-like fingers. The hibernation mode on his PAK was as good an anaesthetic as any pill he could take; Zim slept on regardless.

And on the Massive, the progress bar read 75 per cent complete.

--

Gretchen's first thought was that she was uncomfortable. She was lying on a cold, hard surface with her arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. When she opened her eyes, they were dazzled by the bright light that was emitted by the naked bulb hanging directly above her. She struggled to move and found that her hands and feet had been bound to a table with metal bars. She was lying on an autopsy table. She brayed a scream, which died in her throat as a face swam into her vision. Dib looked extremely nervous and reluctant, his pinched, white face skull-like as it blocked out the hanging bulb's glare.

Terror passed over her as she glanced the scalpel that he held loosely in his fingers. He was wearing a lab-coat that was several sizes too big for him, a coat that was already spattered with a copious amount of blood, dried to maroon. Evidently Dib didn't want to get his clothes dirty. He was wearing gloves too. He smiled at her, and it seemed that there were too many teeth in his mouth, as the terrible grin covered most of his face.

"I should never have gone to the ball with Emma," he said, and laughter seemed to be blended into the tone of regret that he said it with.

"Y...You..." Gretchen attempted, but she could not finish the sentence.

"Maybe if I had gone with you, you wouldn't have come here today," he continued sadly. His eyes widened slightly, as though he had just remembered something important. In a matter-of-fact voice he said, "Gaz is sleeping, by the way. Damian told me that."

Gretchen nodded wildly, desperate to agree with him no matter what, though she couldn't see any way out of this one. Unable to look him in the eyes, which shone with a weird zeal, she fixed her gaze on the thick, white streaks of shock in his hair. How quickly had they appeared? When had it happened? Any of this whole mess? How long had Dib been pretending, living with these horrors, acting as though nothing was wrong? In the long run, did it even matter? After all, in the long run, we are all dead.

"P-Please, Dib," she began, and his eyes shot to his at the sound of his name, as though it was the only thing that really meant anything to him now, "Let me go. I... I won't say anything about..."

"But you will," he sighed, sounding slightly impatient, as though he was explaining why Zim was really an alien for the umpteenth time, "You're really quiet most of the time. But I think maybe your voice is more powerful than you make out." He smiled here, a private smile for a private joke. "I think maybe you can roar."

"N-No, I..."

"So I think I need to stop that," he said, more forcefully now, "The twins won't do it for me, and I told Emma to shove it. But I think I know what she would have done."

Before she could say another word, Dib raised his fist and brought it down in a glittering arc, sending a crimson splash erupting over the walls and over his father's coat. The scalpel sank between Gretchen's ribs and tore a rip through her left lung, then her right, and then her screams became wheezing, squealing rushes as they deflated before Dib's eyes. He continued to bring the scalpel 

down until her chest flapped like gills and his face and hair were dripping with blood and ichor and he had cried out all of his tears.

He knew at that moment that he was not, as Emma had presumed, strong enough to keep this up.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. I would also like to know whether or not I should change the rating on this to 'mature'. Please let me know.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben. **


	28. Undone

Chapter 27

Undone

"Son! So-on," came the voice of Professor Membrane, loud and clear through the silent house.

The call drifted down the basement stairs to Dib's ears, waking him from his troubled sleep. His arms were aching, as though he had been carrying something heavy, but he could not think what. For a second, the image of a cold laboratory wall, stained with dark crimson splashes flickered in front of his vision like the after-image from a camera flash, but it was quickly replaced with calming pastel green wallpaper. What had appeared to be an autopsy table with a ragged, bloody mass strapped to it became a pool table with peeling green carpet with a friendly feel to it. The tray of sharpened, rusting instruments became a palette and paintbrushes, next to a stack of slightly childish paintings. What had been a murderous laboratory had transformed to a comfortable games room in a single blink, something that Dib was extremely grateful for.

He sniffed the air and was met, not with the offensive stench of rotten flesh, but the mouth watering aroma of hot onion soup. Smiling, Dib walked out of the games room and up the stairs, which had been redecorated since he had fallen asleep with photographs of him and Gaz. When he got to the top he looked around in amazement. He was in his house, that much was certain, but it was barely recognisable all the same. The last time he had seen it, the place had been a complete tip; in his miserable, empty state Dib hadn't bothered to clean up after himself. Now the place was completely clean and bright. The heating was on, and the hallway had a comforting glow to it. Each time he moved his arms they twinged painfully.

"Son! Where are you? Your mother's made soup!" called his father once more, and now Dib could hear Gaz talking to him from the kitchen.

"He's probably in the games room," she said, though her voice wasn't condescending and cold, simply the voice of a 12 year old girl talking to her father. Nothing was right here, and Dib was just about to turn back when another voice, one he hadn't heard since its owner was dying in a hospital bed, her chest bubbling like a cauldron when she took the slightest breath.

"Dib! Come upstairs now, I've made lunch!" trilled the friendly, welcoming voice of Freda Membrane and Dib turned and sprinted to the kitchen at the sound, the aching in his arms suddenly meaningless. Sitting around the table with empty bowls set in front of them, awaiting their meal, were the Professor and Gaz. They both grinned at him when he came in, and the woman at the stove turned around at the sound of the door closing behind him.

Her face was one that Dib had missed for so long, and now that her gaze was upon him once more, still with the same fond glow in her eyes, he felt like crying. Her soft, purple curls lay gently on her shoulders, swept back from her face with a simple black band, revealing her honey coloured eyes. Both Dib and Gaz had inherited those eyes; the Professor's were a dull black behind his lab goggles. She wore a simple yellow dress with an apron tied around her slender waist, and when Dib hugged her she smelt of powder and lavender. Her touch was warm.

Dib sat down at the table, his dad and Gaz sitting at either side of him. Steaming onion soup was ladled into each of the bowls, served up with soft white rolls that were still warm. Freda sat in the chair opposite Dib, a soft smile on her lips. Gaz and the Professor were already eating, Gaz slurping the soup loudly, the Professor placing the spoon in his mouth rather than sipping from it. Dib, however, found that he could not eat; there was a lump in his throat that he could not swallow. He simply sat and took in the warmth of sitting with his family in the bright, tidy kitchen, eating a home cooked meal for the first time since his mother had died. Though, of course she hadn't died; she was right here in front of him.

"Aren't you going to eat your soup, honey?" Freda asked, "It's your favourite, right?"

"Right, mom," Dib whispered, picking up his spoon and taking a sip.

--

Though Emma and her siblings had done all they could to prevent the authorities from finding out about the Professor, they still couldn't prevent the school from getting suspicious. Ms Monday, the headmistress, had noted Dib's long and unexplained absences; he had been missing for a long time before the ball, and though he had shown up then, neither he nor his sister had been in school since that time. One explanation that seemed feasible was that the Membrane kids were ill, but that still didn't account for Dib's long absence before the ball.

Now she sat in her office, her pinched cheeks flushed from the heaters that were on 24/7. Her blonde hair was scraped into a tight bun at the top of her head, which she was looking forward to letting down at the end of the day. Her dark framed glasses were perched on top of her head, and she placed them on her face now so she could read the telephone number that was printed in her secretary's neat writing. It was the number for Membrane Labs, where she was going to try and contact Professor Membrane and find out what was going on with his children. Marlene, the secretary, had called earlier, but had been cut off, so she was going to take matters into her own hands.

She pulled up the video screen so that she could see who she was talking to personally. Membrane labs had donated a batch of video conference screens to all of the schools in the neighbourhood. They were just one of the inventions that the Professor had created, apparently in order to allow him to check up on his children whilst working at the labs. Ms Monday didn't approve of this parenting method, though she understood that the situation was difficult with the Membrane family; the famous and incredibly busy father, with the mother missing from the scene. She wasn't so sure that the children coped well with the situation; neither had any friends, and the daughter in particular was anti-social and, in some cases, violent and threatening towards her peers. The son had an unhealthy obsession with the paranormal.

She sighed and dialled the number, trying to banish these unpleasant thoughts from her mind. She governed too many children for her to disagree with the way that they were raised; each parent had their own methods and she had long since discovered that there was little she could to do alter them. But that didn't mean that she would allow them to keep their kids off school without an explanation. The screen flickered into life, showing a harried-looking secretary sitting behind a desk that was loaded with paperwork. Ms Monday knew exactly how the woman felt.

"This is Membrane Laboratories, my name is Katherine. How may I help you, miss?" the secretary said in a faux-friendly tone.

"Good afternoon," Ms Monday said briskly, "My name is Theresa Monday; I'm the headmistress of the main street Hi-Skool which Professor Membrane's children attend. I was hoping to speak to the Professor about..."

"I'm sorry, Ms Monday, but the Professor hasn't been at the labs in over three months," Katherine said, and Theresa's brow furrowed.

"Well, where is he, please?" she asked, slightly edgily, "I need to speak to him about his children, neither of whom have come to school in several days."

"I'm sorry, but nobody really knows _where_ he is," the secretary replied, "He often works on top-secret projects. Last year he didn't show up for six months when he was perfecting a military virus in his labs at home."

"You don't think that he could be working on another virus, do you?" Theresa asked, now genuinely worried, "And maybe his children might have caught it, or..."

"As I have said, Ms Monday, I don't know anything about it," Katherine cut in, now with an edgy tone to her own voice, "The Professor has left no clue as to his whereabouts, which leads us to believe that he is working on a _top-secret_ project and _doesn't_ want to be _disturbed_."

And with that she cut the transmission, leaving the headmistress snubbed and rather annoyed. She gritted her teeth and exhaled slowly. She leant back in her swivel chair and sipped her coffee, pulling a face when she realised that it was cold. After a while, she buzzed her own secretary, asking for Dib Membrane's home phone number. She dialled the number and turned on the video screen. And the phone started to ring.

Thee tones in her ear, and a pause. Then three more. Then three more. The tones drilled on in her ear and the screen remained blank. She tried calling again, with the same results. Then once more, just to be on the safe side. Theresa Monday bit the side of her lip, wondering what to make of the situation. The son, missing from school for long periods of time, broken only for a day to attend the Christmas ball, where he made a fool of himself. The daughter, now missing also. And the father, gone from work for several months, presumed to be working on a top-secret, potentially dangerous project. Eventually she pressed the buzzer for her secretary.

"Marlene?" she said, "Could you get me the number for social services?"

And so it was, with a single phone call, that all of Emma's 'work' at keeping the authorities away was undone.

--

The phone was ringing in the Membrane house. It rang through the living room, littered with empty wrappers and old newspapers, the television blaring snow and static to the empty couch, the lamps knocked over and broken. It rang through the hall, frigidly cold with the heating turned off. It rang up the stairs, which had tacky maroon stains scraped down them, with bloody fingerprints on the walls as well. It rang through the bedrooms, empty and untidy; beds unmade, possessions and clothes strewn about. A bloodstain spreading on the carpet of one room, the diary of a deranged mind thrown open on the carpet of another.

It rang through the laboratory, where the mutilated body of an unpopular girl was still strapped to a table; a girl whose mother was out of her mind with booze, and would, when she realised her daughter had not come home the night before, soon be out of her mind with worry and guilt. It rang through the spare room, which had, until a few hours ago, contained the twisted body of a famous Professor, but now simply contained dust and a lingering smell of death and sadness.

And it rang through the kitchen, where an emaciated teenage boy sat alone at a table under a flickering and dying hanging lamp which frequently left the room in complete darkness for several minutes at a time. Though he didn't know it, he was crying silently, though he had a wide grin on his face. Sitting in chairs at either side of him were the corpses of his family members, which he had dragged down the stairs himself, though he did not know it. He was eating cold onion soup straight out of the can, and had cut his hand on the jagged lid, yet another fact he was unaware of.

His reflection as he perceived it, on the shiny kitchen surfaces, was of a happy and healthy boy sitting with his family. The kitchen, though full of dirty pots congealing in the sink, he saw as a clean and comfortable family room. And the phone, which he did not hear despite its amplified sound in the silent house, was completely ignored. Dib didn't know that, had he answered it and assured his headmistress that everything was fine, his future would have been very different. As it turned out, it was a good thing he didn't, though he wouldn't understand why until a lot later.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben and her siblings, as well as Theresa Monday and, to some extent, Freda Membrane. **


	29. A Sting In The Tail

Chapter 28

A Sting In The Tail

Sandra Ciapor was a friendly, bubbly, thirty-something year old with a love of art, soap operas and cats. Or at least, that was the way that she described herself on her social networking profiles, and in the singles columns of magazines. She drove a battered old four-by-four with fuzzy dice in the windscreen and an air freshener in the shape of a daisy. Her wardrobe consisted of several pairs of faded jeans and a selection of blouses in various pastel colours. Today's shade was baby blue, and she had painted her nails and chosen eye shadow to match. Sandra was a social worker, and she had chosen this career because she wanted to help people. Sure, it was challenging, but that was the attraction for her.

The file that had been on her desk that morning was intriguing. A case involving the children of the famous Professor Membrane, it suggested that the Professor was neglecting his son and daughter. Dib, the older child, was not attending school, and neither was his sister. The Professor had not been seen at work for several months himself, and they could not be reached at home. This was the kind of case that Sandra took a special interest in, as she liked children. She hoped to have some of her own one day, and she was eager to take the case. So far, she simply had to visit the Professor's house and check things out, to ensure that everything was fine. The headmistress of the children's school had suggested that they could simply be ill, but she wasn't so sure.

Now she was driving up to the Membrane house, and she had to admit that it didn't look like the best place to bring up kids; there was an electric force field surrounding the front yard, and the walls were all grey. It looked bleak and cold. She pulled the four-by-four up to the drive and stepped out, walking up to the door but leaving her folders on the passenger seat of the car. She knew that clients often didn't like to hear that social service had files about you, especially when they were as thick as the ones she had. She knocked gently on the door and waited. Nobody answered so she knocked again. There was another period of silence. She was about to turn back to her car when she heard a scream, high pitched and so genuinely terror-filled that her body temperature seemed to plummet to below freezing.

The scream went on for nearly thirty seconds, and in this time, Sandra remained rooted to the spot. When it stopped, she shook herself out of her frozen stupor and grabbed the door-handle, turning it frantically. It barely moved in either direction, and she started to hammer on the door, opening the slot for letters and shouting in, begging for the occupants of the house to open the door, asking what had happened, if everyone was alright. Now that the screaming had stopped there was an eerie kind of silence in the house. No, that wasn't true. There was a very faint sound, coming from a room at the back of the house. It was a slow dragging sound, broken occasionally by a desperate grunting, as though somebody was trying to move something that was very heavy.

Fear enveloped her and she bent down to pick up a loose brick from the front porch to smash through the window with. Beetles scuttled out from under it, making her jerk her hand away in disgust, but not before she saw a faint glinting from under the brick. Bending down, she saw that it was the spare key to the house. She grabbed it triumphantly and slotted it into the keyhole, turning it. It stuck from rust, and her sweaty hands slipped on it. As she continued to battle with the stuck key, she thought she saw movement through the frosted front door window. Finally the key turned and she burst into the house.

--

The sound of a car pulling up outside the house registered distantly in Dib's mind as he slept, his face pressed against the hard, plastic surface of the kitchen table. He had been dozing there since his meal last night, and it was the first sleep he had had in a long time. He stirred, but didn't wake up. Now that his tortured mind was at rest, it was going to take a lot more than that to break him from it. There was the sound of footsteps, brisk and official, coming up to the door, and a gentle knocking. Again he stirred, his eyes flickering open briefly. He yawned and began to sit up, and stretch out, still half-asleep. When the knocks came again, his eyes flew open and he saw where he was.

Sitting at the kitchen table, one of his hands cut open, a half-finished tin of soup knocked over in front of him. On one side of him, the bloody corpse of his sister, her eyes wide and staring and sightless, gazing endlessly into his face. To the other side, a decomposing form that might once have passed for his father, but was now little more than some bloated, ghost-train mannequin, giving off the offensive stench of death and decay. Some terrible ichor was running down the side of his face, from a collapsed and rotting eye. His reflection in the shining pots behind these horror-show figures was exactly what he was; a terrified teenager with his eyes bulging in their sockets and his mouth pulled into an 'o' of horror, his face and hair splashed in dried blood, still wearing a stained lab-coat that was much too big for him.

He opened his mouth and screamed, the terror coming out of him in an unstoppable rush until his lungs burned and he had to stop for breath. It was then that he heard the worried shouts from the front door, the sound of intrusive, scrabbling fingers attempting to break their way in and find him. He didn't know who it was; the voice was a female one that he didn't recognise, but he couldn't let them see this grisly scene, whoever they might be. He glanced around the room, wondering where he could hide the bodies. His eyes fell upon the door that led to the utility room. In it was a large chest freezer, the washing machine and the ironing board.

Dib grabbed the Professor under the arms, crying out at the damp feel of decomposition that his cold hands were met with. He dragged him out of the chair and pulled him towards the utility room, nudging the door open with his toe. He opened the chest freezer, throwing its contents onto the floor, and tried desperately to lift the body with his aching arms. _I can't lift this,_ he thought wildly to himself, _it's a dead weight_, and his shrill laughter bounced off the walls, startling him. He shuddered and finally managed to pull his father into the freezer, shutting the door on his twisted face and sour stench. Not knowing where else he could put her, he simply dragged Gaz through as well, covering her face with a coat. He closed the door and ran back out into the kitchen.

Now he could hear the woman at the front door struggling with the key in the lock. Oh gods above, she was trying to come in! He ran into the lounge, but he was trapped, and she would find him... find him and his family. There was a small chuckle behind him, and Dib whirled around to see his mother, sitting on the couch. She smiled warmly at him, patting the seat next to her. He walked over obediently, sitting down, though his heart was racing.

"Dib, sweetie, you can't leave our guest out on the front porch forever," she said in her comforting, honey-and-lemon voice.

"I know, mom, I know," he said frantically. Though he had seen the house as a tidy family home before, he could now see the state all the rooms were in, the thick layer of dust on every surface. He could smell the dark deeds that had been done here, chokingly strong, in the air.

"Do you remember what project your dad was working on before he fell down the stairs?" Freda Membrane asked her son, her voice slow, deliberate and patient. When he shook his head, she elaborated. "He was working on an anaesthetic. He wanted to use all-natural components, so it could be made with nothing that was harmful to the environment. He was using venom from..."

" ...Scorpions," Dib continued, his voice dull and dead-pan, "A certain type of scorpion and the sap of a tree. And he said that in the right amount, it would knock a person out, but in the wrong amount..."

"...It could kill a person," Freda finished solemnly, "So make sure you're careful when you show it to our guest. We wouldn't want anything to accidentally leak, would we? Something that could come back to haunt you?" Dib shook his head, staring at his mother. He didn't like the look in her eyes, but he liked disobeying her even less. As he stood up to leave, she touched his hand gently.

"What, mom?" he asked, and her eyes shone brightly.

"You've got a little smudge on your face, honey," she said gently, "Better clean that off before our guest arrives."

Dib scrubbed at the blood on his face as he left the room, letting rusty flakes of the stuff fall to the floor like dandruff. He ran past the front door to the basement, ignoring Gretchen in his search for his father's project. He had seen it many times when he had come down to the labs. It was a needle that was full of a clear, potentially deadly liquid. From the notes that his father had made, if all 10ml of his serum were injected, the subject would die. The maximum you could inject without causing serious damage was 3 ml. Dib found the needle at long last, under an overturned book. He picked it up with trembling fingers, staring at the numbers on the side.

The lock of the front door clicked.

--

In Zim's base, the computer was having a hard time trying to get GIR to listen as it explained its plan to help save their unconscious master. It was still struggling to keep the protective fields up, as the Massive was hacking them at a steady rate, but it thought it might have found a way in which to keep the Massive's computer occupied long enough to recharge all the fields, if only GIR would cooperate.

"Listen, GIR," it said hurriedly, "You know about the Massive, right? How it has DNA scanners?"

GIR nodded enthusiastically, and opened his mouth to answer, but the computer cut over him.

"I need you to take this," it continued, indicating a small parcel that a robotic claw was holding, "and run as fast as you can, away from the base. The DNA scanners on the base will think that they've found Zim, and will stop hacking our fields, at least for a while. Can you do that?"

"UH-HUH!" the robot squealed, nodding violently. He grabbed the parcel, which contained the finger that the computer had severed whilst Zim was unconscious. He opened it and looked inside. "OOOOOOH! Masta's finger!"

The computer was about to reply when Zim groaned loudly. He sat up on the couch, swaying slightly, and opened his eyes after some effort. He was experiencing the odd, drained sensation that came from having your blood completely purified. There was an unexplained pain in his hand, and as he looked at it dully, he noticed the absence of his finger. His eyes widened, and he looked around the room, only to see it clutched in the hands of his robot slave. He growled.

"What is this? WHAT IS THIS?" he shouted, and GIR sprinted from the base, screaming. Zim ran after him before the computer could stop him and explain the necessity of staying inside the base. Unable to call him back, the computer concentrated on keeping the fields up. Hopefully Zim would come back after he got tired of chasing GIR, and the plan would work. Soon it found its job getting easier and easier, and eventually the fields were completely replenished.

Zim was running as fast as he could, but the GIR was already out of sight. Why? What had possessed the robot to steal one of his fingers? Why had he run off with it? He continued on, down street after street, until he was completely lost. He would have to find GIR now, if he had any hopes of getting back to the base. A chill of fear passed over him as he realised that the Irken computers could see him now, and that perhaps it was a good idea to get back to the base _now_. He turned around, staring at the paths that were in front of him. Which way had he come?

With a yell of frustration, he ran down the left path, the opposite direction to the base, as it happened. He continued to run until he came to a river. Across that river was a bridge. He walked over to it, drawn to it as if by some unknown force, slowly and carefully. He crossed to the middle of the bridge and stared over the side, watching the powerful rush of water with a mixture of awe and instinctive fear. He didn't know how long he stood there, mesmerised by the rushing torrents, but some time had passed before he was broken from this hypnosis by a cry behind him.

--

Dib stepped over the crumpled body of the blonde woman that had bumped into him at the top of the stairs. She had screamed when she had seen him and he had stuck the needle into her arm instinctively, pressing the plunger in only up to the 3ml mark. The safe mark. He ran out of the door and slammed it on the house of horrors that had once been his home, continuing to run past startled neighbours and total strangers. The lab coat, saturated with the blood of so many innocents, flapped around his legs as he ran, and he dumped it off after a while, as though it was weighing him down with guilt and sin.

Soon he was running down the hill where the Hi-Skool was located, and he had a brief flash-back of him and Emma sneaking out of school to follow Zim, seeing the late Ms Cross driving her van and staring at him. How long ago had that been? It seemed a thousand years had passed since then, and all of the memories were sour. Suddenly he heard footsteps running behind him, and though he put 

on speed, they carried on, catching up with him. Damian and Desdemona appeared on either side of him like personal trainers.

"What have you done?" Desdemona wailed, but he carried on regardless.

"You didn't kill that woman," Damian growled, "She'll wake up, she'll find out, she'll..."

"GO AWAY!!" Dib shrieked, and they vanished instantly, though their reproachful faces remained engraved in his mind.

His lungs were on fire, his chest heaving, his arms and legs aching from the strain of running when he had so little energy as it was, but he couldn't stop. Not now, when he was so close to getting away from all that had held him prisoner. He turned the corner and nearly tripped, sending his arms in flailing circles as he tried to keep his balance. He caught himself in time, but sank to the floor anyway, breathing deeply, a stitch burning his chest like a searing hot poker. He squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten. When he opened them again, he cried out. Emma was in front of him, her freezing grey eyes staring into his.

"NO!" he cried, "Not you! Please, I need to get away, I need to..."

"You think you can get away from me?" she asked coldly, "You might have sent me away for a while, Dib, but I'll _always_ come back somehow. The twins _are_ me, your mother_ is_ me."

As if to prove it, she morphed into the image of his mother in front of his eyes, her face red and angry. It was an expression he had never seen on her usually soft, gentle features.

"Dib T. Membrane, I am _really_ disappointed in you!" she screeched in a voice that was completely unlike her own, "You are going to march right back up that hill and inject the rest of that vial into that woman!"

Dib screwed his eyes shut, scrambled to his feet and ran, but Emma was still next to him, step for step, like a personal trainer coaxing him on. He carried on running until he reached a fork in the road, choosing the left path blindly. He sprinted on until he reached a roaring river, with a bridge over it. Standing in the middle of the bridge was a familiar figure.

"Zim!" Dib called out wildly, and the Irken turned to look at him, startled. There was a long silence, in which Emma began to walk towards the bridge with small steps. Dib followed her quickly. She was muttering something under her breath, some talismanic mantra, and Zim stared uneasily at Dib, who wondered how the alien could hear her too. Then he realised that he was muttering it as well, and he listened to the words that came from his lips.

"...Sleep with the fishes in your watery grave, you shall sleep with the fishes in your watery grave, you shall sleep with the..."

His eyes widened as Emma reached Zim. She grinned at him, and he started to run, watching the expression of fear slowly appear on Zim's face.

"Dib-Stink, what are you..."  
"You shall sleep with the fishes in your watery..."  
"NO!"

When Dib reached Zim, Emma threw her arms out and caught Zim squarely on the chest, though Dib felt the pressure under his own hands. Zim cried out and pin wheeled his arms for balance, staggering backwards as he did so. The Irken seemed to hang in the air before he fell down and crashed through the surface of the rapidly moving water. Then he disappeared from sight completely.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben, Freda Membrane and Sandra Ciapor. **


	30. Saved

Chapter 29

Saved

Dib cried out and rushed to the edge of the bridge, his bloodshot eyes desperately scanning the water's surface for a sign of Zim. Emma ran to look as well, a grim smile on her face. For a long time there was nothing, and then, out of nowhere, the Irken burst through the surface as though it were a glass wall. He screeched, and the very noise set Dib's whitening hair on end. It was animal; inhuman, agonised. Nails on a blackboard, a rabbit in a trap, scraping metal, none of them even came close to the horrific noise that Zim was making. Dib lunged forwards, holding out his hand.

"Zim!" he shouted, "Grab on!"

Zim reached up painfully, touching Dib's hand with the very tips of his fingers. Dib instantly tightened his grip, pulling his hand up to reveal... an empty glove. Zim was rushed under the bridge by the current, still screeching. All of his exposed skin was beginning to peel, and the water began to eat away at the raw flesh underneath. Dib ran to the other side of the bridge and reached out again. This time Zim grabbed his hand properly, and Dib pulled upwards with all his might. The Irken began to lift out of the water. Suddenly there was a terrible ripping noise. Zim shrieked in pain and fell back to the current below, which swept him further out of reach.

Dib looked down at his hand. Clenched into it was the skin of Zim's hand, ragged where it had ripped off at the wrist in one piece like another scaly glove. He gasped and threw it to the floor in disgust, shuddering. The screams of the agonised alien continued on down the river, before trailing off into a gurgling moan as Zim was dragged under and out of sight again. Dib shook off his trench coat and tensed his knees, about to spring when Emma grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, genuinely confused, "You once told me you'd rather see Zim die than even be friends with him. Why are you trying to save him?"

"I'm not gonna let you kill again!" he cried, shoving her to the side. He took a couple of steps backwards then ran forwards, diving into the water without another thought.

The water was freezing; enveloping his body the second he touched it and sending a burning through him like liquid fire. He tried to think what it would be like for Zim; chilled acid, eating away at his body. He remembered the amount of pain one raindrop had caused him when it had touched his fingers, and he felt a sympathetic pain in his own body. He swam through, forced on by the current with each pull of his aching arms. Emma ran alongside him on the bank of the river, her face twisted and furious. He had caught up with Zim now. Curling his arm around the Irken's middle, he pulled him to the edge of the river and hauled him onto the bank.

He heaved himself out of the water and rushed to Zim's side, looking down at him with pity and horror. Skin hung off his antennas in long, scaly strips, and it had peeled away from the right side of his face completely. There was a startlingly white spot on his right temple where the flesh had been eaten away completely, his skull glaring through angrily. He was breathing slowly, his chest rising in spastic shudders, and his eyes trembled in their sockets. Dib clicked his fingers in front of Zim's face, calling his name urgently.

Suddenly all that he had previously thought of Zim; the threats and internal fantasies of dissections, the endless chases, the childish insults and the primal, xenophobic hate that they both held each other with seemed meaningless in comparison for his desire for Zim to pull through. It didn't matter that Zim was a different species; the idea of having yet another death on his head was terrifying. His hands were bloody as Lady Macbeth's, and if they were going to be stained with more Irken blood then he might as well throw himself back into the river. Zim's eyelids rolled back, and he whimpered in pain at the friction of the simple action.

"Zim?" Dib said worriedly, his voice wavering in his dry throat.

"Y... You're messed up, Dib," Zim murmured, his eyes half-closed and his voice barely audible. Dib barely noticed the lack of a childishly derogative suffix to his name. "You could have killed me."

"I need help," Dib groaned as black spots appeared in front of his eyes. He dropped to the floor and curled up. "I keep doing this."

"You saved my life," Zim said, his voice fractionally stronger now, but now his voice was far off and distant as Dib blacked out completely. Five hours had passed before he woke up, to the sound of police sirens in the distance.

--

Sandra Ciapor woke up groggily, her eyes flickering and her head spinning. She was sprawled on cold steps, leading down to a basement in a house that smelt like the bins at the back of a butcher's shop. There was a needle sticking out of her arm like a tranquiliser dart in a lion's hide. She stood up shakily and tripped down the steps almost immediately, landing unceremoniously in a basement laboratory. For some reason, this meant something to her, and suddenly it clicked. Professor Membrane's house; she had come to Professor Membrane's house to check up on his children and...

There was a corpse strapped to the autopsy table.

Sandra stared at it, realising that she must still be dreaming, and that this was some horrible nightmare that had gone sour somehow. She had seen a corpse once before, whilst checking up on an elderly client who lived on his own. She had knocked for five minutes on his door, knowing that he was very deaf and often didn't hear the door. Doubt had started to set in. Perhaps he had fallen down the stairs or fainted in the bath or mixed up his medication. She had taken the key from under the mat and unlocked the door, just as she had done when she had come to this house, several hours ago. The old man had died in his sleep, peaceful as you like. The corpse was almost inoffensive in its serene, unmarked stillness, but this one had a face that was contorted into excruciating agony.

She recognised the girl that had been sliced to death as a previous charge. Greta or Gretchen or something like that. She was bullied at school, and her mother was an alcoholic. A fly landed on her face and crawled into her gaping mouth. Sandra screamed now, scrambling out of the room and up the stairs, running blindly into the kitchen, which was a complete tip. There was a door leading to a small cupboard in one corner of the room. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap she could see a pale hand sprawled on the floor, the fingers curled into a beckoning gesture. _Come here, Sandra. Come see what happened in the house of fun. Come join us Sandra. We don't bite..._

Sobbing, she turned and ran for the front door, wrenching the door of her car open and driving to the police station at full speed. She made her statement, explained her fears for the Membrane boy's mental state, was checked over by a medic, tranquilised, given sleeping pills and sent home. She hadn't dared to peek around the utility room door, but her dreams were plagued with what it might have hidden for several decades to come.

--

How he got back to his base, Zim wasn't too sure. He vaguely remembered calling GIR, and he thought that Keef might have played a part in it as well, but none of that really mattered now. He had never felt so much pain before, and yet he was still alive. He chuckled humourlessly. How ironic; the Dib saved his life and yet if the Irken Armada managed to hack through the fields that his computer had set up, then he was dead anyway. The computer's plan had evidently worked for now, as the Irkens had been too busy trying to work out which of the DNA signals was coming from the real Zim to bother with the base.

At the moment, he was plugged into a health support machine, which was speeding up the healing process of his skin. It was a strange experience, feeling your flesh knitting back together, watching skin growing and tightening in front of your eyes. His eyes had also had to be reconstituted in places, which had been excruciatingly painful. Still, it was all eternally better than the feeling of skin melting away from the flesh it had once been anchored to. Dib had saved him from that, but he had also been the cause of it in the first place.

When the Earth authorities found the human, who Zim had left on the river bank, they would probably find out about all of the people he had killed. Well, all apart from the Tallest, who were still in the cryogenic freezers in the bowels of Zim's labs. He would be taken away to the "Crazy House" for the rest of his miserable life. Whilst this would usually be a good thing, something that Zim would gloat over for a while then dismiss as insignificant, there was something pitifully and inconveniently binding about having your life saved, no matter what species you were. To Irkens, who didn't believe in any sort of resurrection or afterlife, death was the biggest finality of them all. And to have been snatched from the jaws of it... by a _human_... Ugh. Why was everything always so difficult?

"We need to be _even_," he growled, and by voicing it he made it his main goal in life. Knowing that he was going to be shut down by the Armada made the idea of trying to repay Dib's favour easier to accept. He needed to get even with the human, but first he needed to find out where he was. Unplugging the health support machine, despite the fact that he wasn't fully healed, Zim crossed the room to a computer station and started to hack the hospital databases in the city.

--

"...Out cold... so thin..."

"...hair's so white...obviously mad as a..."

"...blood on his hands, d'you think he..."

Dib opened his eyes and sat up suddenly, causing the three police officers that had been kneeling over him to yell and scramble backwards. He looked around in a daze, the memories flooding back to him in a relentless stream. The officers stared at him worriedly, and one of them muttered into his radio. There was an ambulance near them, and a police car. The social worker must have called them, he thought, as quickly as the images had registered in his head. He stepped forwards, sinking to his knees with a thud as he did so.

"Please take me," he sobbed, "I need help. You have to help me."

And he had explained everything.

One straight-jacked and a padded cell later, Dib sat propped up against the spongy wall. He had been straight-jacketed once before, and had hated it, but now it was a comforting feeling. Trussed up like a Christmas turkey, he knew he couldn't hurt anyone or anything. This thought was nowhere near as comforting, however, as knowing that he had saved two people from himself. One of them was his mortal enemy, certainly, but nobody deserved to die at the hands of an imaginary friend. He had come quietly, he had accepted his fate. In fact, he relished it.

The door slid open and a nurse entered, the light from the corridor glaring off his brilliantly blond hair. He cleared his throat.

"You have a visitor," he said in a quiet and patient voice, "Are you going to cooperate with us?"

From down the corridor, a familiar voice could be heard, echoing into all of the cells indignantly. Dib looked up properly and listened carefully.

"Of _course_, idiot medic-drone! Zim is related to the huge-headed insane human that killed his leaders... I mean, relatives. Look at our hair!"

Dib looked at the nurse and nodded slowly. Zim was ushered into the cell, the door closing behind him. The nurse stared through the plastic window with incredibly blue eyes as Zim approached Dib in a tentative manner that was almost sheepish. When he had come to what he considered a safe distance, he stared into Dib's eyes and glared.

"You saved me, idiot human," he growled, and Dib nodded once more. "You should have let Zim drown, and been free to roam the streets with your inferior insanity still intact."

"Even your insanity is better than ours?" Dib asked, a macabre smile playing on his cracked lips. Zim nodded enthusiastically.

"Irken insanity is superior because it doesn't exist, Earth-boy," he said impressively, before sighing and lowering his eyes, "But Zim didn't waste his last few minutes coming here to argue. I wanted to say thank you. For saving my incredible life."

"Last few minutes?" Dib tried to sit up and fell over onto his side. Zim smirked, but didn't laugh. There was something too pathetic about it for even Zim to laugh at that.

"The Irken Armada is after me. They're going to shut down my PAK," he said quietly, "Shut down like they'll shut down GIR and the computer."

Dib struggled back up into a sitting position and stared at Zim for several minutes. During this time, Zim backed away slightly. There was something incredibly creepy about being stared at by someone in a straight-jacket, and Dib's stare might well have been the creepiest of them all. As Dib stared, he considered how similar Zim, GIR and the computer all were. They were all powered by machinery, and all had an artificial memory system... SIR units had memory disks; he remembered. A plan was coming together in his broken mind, and though it might need some fine-tuning, he was sure Zim would be able to sort it out.

"Your memories are in your PAK, right? And your personality and stuff?" he asked, and Zim nodded distractedly. He smiled slightly, "So you could back them up, like a computer's hard-drive?"

"If I had another PAK drive, then yes, Zim could be downloaded onto another disk as a back-up," Zim said dully. Dib's small smile broke into a grin, the first proper smile that he had attempted in weeks. He had almost forgotten how to do it.

"Did you get rid of the Tallest's PAKs after... you know?" he asked.

"I don't know where you're going with this, Dib..."

Zim trailed off. His eyes lit up and his shark-like mouth stretched into a banana-sized grin. If he understood what Dib was saying, then he had just been saved. Twice.

**AN**

**Please review, and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma Dribben and Sandra Ciapor. **


	31. Escaping and Imprisonment

Chapter 30

Escaping and Imprisonment

Zim sprinted back to the base, his heart pounding with hope. _How_ had he missed it? How had he not seen this escape sitting in front of him, bobbing like a rubber ring in front of his nose, waiting for him to grasp on for dear life? There were two PAKs waiting for him at the base that he could use to save himself. Back at the hospital, with eyes that shone earnestly, Dib had called it fate that though he had killed the Tallest, they would be saving Zim. Zim didn't believe in fate, but he did believe that this plan could work, as long as he didn't make any mistakes.

He simply had to take the memory drive from one of the Tallest's PAKs and wipe it, before using it to back up his own memories and personality. When the control brains shut down his PAK he would have ten minutes before his body stopped functioning. Plenty of time to slot the hacked memory drive back into Red's PAK (the colour scheme of Purple's wouldn't compliment Zim's eyes, he considered), and plug himself into it. He hurtled up the path to his front door and burst into the base, holding up a triumphant fist.

"Compu-TER! Ready yourself, for there is work to be done!" he declared dramatically, jumping into the elevator with a gleefulness that GIR would be proud of. There was a noise that sounded like a rush of static, which was actually the computer sighing. There was _always_work to be done.

Despite his eagerness to get to work, Zim did still feel some dread as the elevator took him down to the labs below. He wasn't looking forward to coming face to face with the dead Tallest once more. Things had taken a surreal turn since this morning, he thought. He owed his very existence to the insane human that was locked away in the hospital at this very moment. He was going to desecrate the body of his former leader; an act that filled him with a queasy mixture of disgust and excitement.

He walked slowly across the laboratory to the freezers and pressed his small hand to the keypad that locked them, spreading his fingers shakily. A blue light scanned them and there was a series of beeps. The drawers that the Tallest were preserved in popped open with a hiss, letting out a freezing smoke through the gap. Crimson eyes stared up through this fog and a shiver crept up Zim's back. Though he tried to tell himself that it was just from the cold, the atmosphere said otherwise. Even GIR seemed incredible sombre, which only added to the creepiness of the situation.

Zim turned Red's body over and tugged at his PAK. Though it should have come away from the dead Irken relatively easily now that there was no life to support, it remained stubborn, encased in frozen flesh. It took Zim several tugs before it even started to move, until it finally and suddenly came away with a sickly crackling noise as the frozen fibres of muscle snapped. Zim stumbled backwards with the PAK clutched in his hands, staring at it with guilty awe. He pushed the drawer that Red was laying in back into the freezer and carried the machine, which was now writhing in his arms, away from the cryogenic labs.

He placed the PAK on a metal table as claws came down from the ceiling to hold it down, before taking a complicated looking tool and hitting the machine violently until a small hatch fell open. Inside the metal compartment was a PAK drive that resembled a floppy-disk, which hummed a rhythm similar to a heartbeat as it continued to run inside the life-support machine. Ever so carefully, Zim reached into the compartment with a large pair of pliers and removed the drive. He placed it gingerly on the table, terrified of damaging it.

The PAK stopped writhing and lay still on the table, harmless and useless without the memories and personality for it to run. Zim took off the magnifying goggles he had been wearing as he carried out this delicate task (he didn't actually need them, but they looked incredibly cool) and took the drive across the room to the computer's PAK interface. This was where he carried out routine maintenance and upgrades for his own PAK. He slotted the drive into a receptor, watching as two screens burst into life. One showed all of Red's personality statistics, as well as his status in Irken society. The other was a list of Red's memories, which continued to trawl down the screen at an incredible rate whilst they loaded.

"Delete Irken personality and memory files," Zim said clearly, and an animation came onto the screens showing a PAK being thrown in a trash compactor. Zim watched this animation with wide eyes, his heart beating so wildly that he could feel the tips of his antennas pulsing. Eventually, a large tick appeared on the screen.

"Personality deleted. Memory files deleted. PAK drive wiped successfully," the computer said almost smugly.

"Excellent," Zim crooned, adding in a loud and dramatic tone, "And now, computer, the time has come to... BACK UP THE FILES OF ZIM!!"

At these last words, Zim threw his hands above his head as wires came down from the ceiling and plugged into his PAK almost violently. Zim's eyes closed slowly as the long and tedious process of backing up an entire Irken began. It seemed that he had spent most of the past few weeks comatose, though hopefully this would be the last time.

--

He had relished his fate. _Relished _it! Dib laughed bitterly as he considered how stupid he had been to even think that he would be better off in the hospital. It wasn't that he didn't like it here, now that he had been neutralised in the confines of his cell. His sane side, his compassionate side, the _Dib_ side, loved it. Emma, on the other hand was more than a little annoyed with the current state of affairs. She had waited until the nurses had all gone before slipping through the barred window of his door and surprising him.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" she noted darkly, making him start in the straightjacket and fall onto his side. As he pulled himself back up, no easy task, she continued, "And after all we've done for you."

"It's better than knowing you can kill more people," he whispered through cracked lips, and she smiled.

"You're going to escape, of course," she said, continuing despite the violent outburst that the sentence caused, "You may like it in here, Dib, but I sure as hell don't. Neither do the twins, and neither does your mother."

As she mentioned each person, they appeared to step out of the air in front of his eyes, but there were sinister chances in each of their appearances. Damian's friendly smile was a contemptuous smirk and he was pale and skeletal, a mirror of Dib himself. Desdemona was as thin as her brother, wearing a low-cut top and a short skirt. Her face was plastered in make-up, clown like, and she gazed lustily at Dib. His mother resembled him less and less, becoming a stranger with a false smile that didn't touch her eyes. The more he looked at them, the more Dib thought that maybe these changes had really been there all along.

"Dib, honey, did you miss me?" Freda Membrane asked, holding her arms out to him. Desdemona had paced up to him, pouting her crimson lips.

"Kiss me, Dib," she whispered huskily, "You're all I want, I can make you happy, and you know it."

"How pathetic," Damian laughed as Dib cringed away from her face, "Only two girls ever fancied you and one of them is a figment of your imagination!" He paused at this and then laughed again. "And you killed the other one yourself!"

"No!" Dib gasped desperately, "You killed her, you did and there's no way you're getting me back outside just so you can do the same again!"

However, it seemed that none of them were listening to him. When the nurse came back from his rounds and looked in to Dib's cell he was met with the sight of Dib curled in the corner of his cell, apparently cowering from some invisible being. Occasionally he cried out, and frequently he clasped his hands over his ears and rocked on the balls of his feet, muttering to himself in an attempt to block out whatever voices he was hearing. Sighing, the nurse went to find some tranquilisers, feeling that this was a kid that was going spend most of his time here doped up.

--

Several hours had passed before Zim was unplugged from the computers, but when the satisfied beep to indicate that the files had been backed up successfully finally sounded, relief fell into the atmosphere of the base. As he was released from the machine, Zim's eyes were focussed only on the drive that had popped out of the computer like a piece of mechanical toast. He hurried over and snatched it up jealously, glaring around the room as though worried some invisible person would take it. Call him paranoid, but Zim had had his fill of invisible people for now.

He stared at the disk, feeling power surging through his hands at the mere touch of it. There were so many possibilities of what could be done with this disk without it even being used to save him; though a backup of a PAK was possible, it was also a great threat to the empire, and backups were only used in extreme cases. With this drive Zim could... Why he could rule the universe! If he could repair the damage to Tallest Red's body, and reinsert the PAK with _his_ personality... He could go to Irk and rule it and all of its empire as the Almighty Tallest Zim!

Grinning evilly, Zim considered his plan. If he used the PAK to save himself, then started work on the body, he would be able to rule in maybe six Earth months. All thanks to Dib and his strange, broken mind. Maybe, _just_ maybe, Zim would make it up to him. After all, the least he could do would be to help him escape from that hospital. He knew that hospitals released people who were sane. If he could repair Dib's mind, he might be able to sort this mess out. After all, Zim didn't want his human slaves to be insane when he started his reign of terror!

"Master!" the computer said suddenly, breaking Zim's train of thought, "Irken intelligence has breached our fields. This area is insec..."

All of the screens went blank, before being replaced with the Irken symbol. A mechanical voice boomed through every room in the base, and all of the lights dimmed.

"Exiled Invader Zim. As you have been hiding from the Irken armada, you shall be placed under immediate questioning concerning the disappearance of the Almighty Tallest Red and Purple. Failure to cooperate will result in your..."

"Yes, yes, get on with it," Zim said impatiently. The voice continued.

"Your PAK will be scanned for incriminating evidence."

As the wires came down from the ceiling for the second time, Zim rolled his eyes. Why should he be afraid when he had a backup plan that was as flawless as his? He knew that the control brains would scan his PAK from the first memory, not the last, and that he would be convicted long before the memory of his recent plan would be reached. Sure enough, as the memories flickered in picture form on the screens, it stopped at the one of him plotting to overthrow the Tallest.

"TREASON!" several voices screeched, and Zim, in spite of his previous calm, started in shock and bit his lip.

"You have been evaluated as a defective unit and a threat to the empire, Irken Zim," the voice said coldly, "As punishment, your PAK will now be terminated."

The second these words were spoken, there was a series of clicks from Zim's PAK. He felt a strange, draining sensation as the life-support was shut down, then the machine fell from his back like a shell, useless. Zim scratched his arm and flicked his antennas agitatedly. There was something incredibly uncomfortable about spending too long without a PAK. A blue light swept the room, and a large cross appeared on the screens.

"Scan shows no PAK signals remain. Irken Zim, you have 10 minutes to before your body shuts down. Have a nice day."

The lights turned back on and the computers returned to normal. Zim stood shakily for a few seconds in the middle of the room, staring at the PAK on the floor. He couldn't believe that he was looking at his life support, lying there like so much unwanted trash. Then he remembered that he was supposed to reboot it, and also that if he didn't hurry, he would forget how to do that as his brain began to shut down. He sprang into action, stuffing the drive into the PAK with inconsiderate speed due to the loss of his hand-eye coordination.

As the machine plugged back into his body his mind went completely blank. Zim fell, convulsing to the floor. Seven days passed. Finally, Zim stood up, trembling, and began to talk to thin air.

"Name: Zim," he said blankly, "Species: Irken. Status: Exiled. Memory Test: Positive. Reboot successful."

He blinked and looked around, as though coming out of a deep and troubled sleep. He was alive. And he knew that the first thing he needed to do was to make sure he paid for it. So, with legs that were still trembling from the reboot, Zim stepped out into the street and set off in the direction of the hospital. He was carrying an interesting device in his pocket, one of his own invention. Though it had been tested successfully many times, this would be the first time he used it for real. He had made it with the intention of destroying the Dib. He had never dreamt he would be using it to help piece him together again.

--

He couldn't take it anymore. Seven days of these imaginary fiends taunting him day and night, seven days of constant injections of various drugs, seven days of rocking convulsively in a straight jacket had reduced Dib to something even less than he had been before. He had heard the nurses talking about him, heard Emma telling him to kill them, heard all of his "friends" telling him to escape.

He couldn't take it anymore. But he knew that he didn't have to for much longer. This escape from reality was really a prison, and if Emma wanted him to break out then he sure as hell didn't want to disappoint her. Right now he was sitting in front of Zim. The twins were making faces behind Zim's back, his mother stared disapprovingly and Emma simply watched emptily. He could barely concentrate on what the excited Irken was saying.

"...Saved me, and now you will be saved at the hands of Zim!"

"You... How..." Dib began, his throat parched from constant crying.

"I need to scan your brain, then use my MIGHTY Irken equipment to make it stable. Then they'll let you out of this crazy-house, correct?" Zim asked. Dib nodded, and Zim immediately whipped out a deadly looking appliance, shoved one end into Dib's ear and pressed a button. Dib's mind went blank for a few seconds, and then returned to normal. Zim sat still, grinning proudly at this small victory.

"C-Could you bring me something?" Dib asked suddenly, and Zim stopped grinning and looked at Dib with a raised eyebrow. "Something to help me escape."

At this, Zim nodded. As Dib whispered what he needed to Zim, Emma beamed behind him. The twins hugged each other. Freda watched on excitedly. Zim himself looked bemused, but willing to help his once sworn enemy. As he left the room there was a collective cheer from the unseen guests, and Dib grinned along with them. He was going to escape. And he was taking them with him.

--

Zim sat on the couch in his base, jabbering away to GIR, to his robo-parents, to the computer, to anyone who would listen. He had given the Dib the items he had wanted, he had released him from the straight jacket. He was the hero, and as such he could forget about fixing Dib's brain and get back to his plan with the Tallest. Nonetheless, he had kept the files he had scanned from the boy's mind. Just in case.

"So, Zim saves the day once more," he concluded, and the computer made a non-committal noise. "Still," he continued thoughtfully, tapping his chin, "It was strange. I mean, how could the human escape from that cell with nothing more than a step ladder and a length of rope?"

There was a spluttering noise as the computer gasped. Zim went about his work oblivious.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben and Freda Membrane.**


	32. Don’t Leave Me Hanging

Chapter 31

Don't Leave Me Hanging

Dib's fingers were trembling as he sat in the corner of the cell, his back to the door, tying the rope Zim had left him. They shook so hard that he could barely form the knots, and it took him several tries before he finally managed to produce the deadly loop of a noose. He slid the knot back and forth, watching the loop grow and shrink. It had an eerie calming quality, and lord knew he needed to stay calm. If he caused any commotion, the nurses would come to his cell and discover what he had assembled.

When Zim had come back to the cell he had been comically oblivious as to Dib's intentions. Luckily he hadn't questioned why he had to come in top secret; he had been told he was helping Dib to escape, but he had no idea what that meant. He had helped Dib out of the straight jacket almost casually and had left with a sincere nod by way of goodbye, which Dib had returned, in way of thanks. Now the small stepladder that Zim had smuggled into the cell stood in a corner below the ceiling air vents. As the people in the padded cells were jacketed up, the idea that they could escape the hospital via the ventilation system was preposterous. Yet Dib was going to use the vent itself to help him.

He walked to it now and stretched up, fumbling the other end of the rope in a clumsy knot around the vents, before giving the rope a tug. It held. He went back to the door of the cell, peering through the bars. There was nobody about; the coast was clear. Now it was just a case of climbing the ladder, putting his head through the loop and taking the plunge. Simple as one, two, three. Yet suddenly those three steps looked like the longest journey he would ever have to take in his life. Either way, they would be the last journey he'd be taking, and he might as well get it over with. He made to take the first step.

Yet he was frozen. Nerves had rooted him to the spot, and he found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't coax his legs to propel him over. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through the darkness. When his heart rate had returned to normal, he took the step. He opened his eyes. He was standing at the bottom of the stepladder, legs tensed and ready to climb. As he placed his foot on the first step, a bony hand grabbed his shoulder. He whipped around.

"Aw, c'mon, Dib," Emma smirked, "You didn't think we'd leave you hanging around on your own, did you?"

Desdemona giggled shrilly. Freda Membrane was crying softly, though her matronly smile remained on her face, mask-like and false. Dib shuddered. It looked like this was going to be harder than he had planned.

--

Zim hummed tunelessly, setting up the autopsy table in his laboratory in preparation for Tallest Red. He was going to start his repair work as soon as possible now that he owed nothing to Dib. The sooner he patched up the body, the sooner he plugged the PAK in, the sooner he would have the universe in his grip. However, before he started he would have to fix the computer. It had been babbling some spiel about Dib and terrible mistakes for the past five minutes.

"...die, Zim! Don't you see you've killed him?" it finished dramatically. Zim looked up, yawning.

"Sorry, what? I wasn't listening," he said, and the computer groaned exasperatedly.

"Suicide. Dib's going to commit suicide by hanging himself with that rope!" it repeated. Zim's eyes widened.

Surely the human wasn't going to attempt one of the highest acts of treason there was? In Irken terms, suicide was one of the lowest crimes imaginable, and was treated with the same contempt as regicide. To take away the life that the Empire had worked hard to give you, to make yourself completely useless to any task in the Empire, to turn your back on the Tallest in the ultimate way... why the Irken who attempted something as damnable as that was on a par with the lowest of inferior species.

And to think that _he_, Zim, would have had a hand in this insanity?! Zim shuddered at the thought of it. Not only would he have been helping the boy to commit this atrocity, but he would be further in debt with the Dib... and with no way of paying him back for saving him! Springing into action, Zim sprinted towards the elevator shaft, his plan of becoming Tallest momentarily forgotten.

"I must stop him quickly," he muttered to himself, before announcing in his most commanding voice, "TO THE VOOT CRUISER!"

"Ah," the computer said sheepishly, "That might be a problem."

--

Dib stepped defiantly onto the first step of the ladder, staring coldly at the demons that crowded in the cell with him. Freda stepped forwards, the tears rolling like pearls down her cheeks. Her soft, powdery scent seemed harsh, sour and curdled now. Her hair, always neat when she had been alive, was now messy, and she pulled at it in anguish now.

"No, Dib," she whispered, "You can't do this! Not to me. Not to your mother."

Dib glared at her, causing her tears to roll faster. She began to sob, but the fixed smile was still there. Dib knew that smile well. There was a single photograph of Freda Membrane in the old house, tucked into an anonymous black album in the study. Though he had never noticed it about these mother-visions before, he saw it now. No matter what her emotion was, the smile was still there, cut and pasted from the family album, the only thing of his real mother that was there.

"You were never my mother," he said softly, "And you never can be. She died, and I can't bring her back through you. I don't believe in you anymore."

At the last sentence, Freda drew in a horrified gasp. Her lower jaw dropped down at it, destroying the photograph smile, and continued to drop until it reached her chest. Her eyes rolled grotesquely, her hair stood on end. Dib squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that his head span, but when he opened them, his mother was gone. The Dribben siblings remained, staring stonily at him. He took the next step.

--

"BROKEN?!"

The yell echoed around the base, startling birds that had been resting on the radio antenna on the roof. The computer repeated its information, and Zim growled in frustration. The Voot Cruiser's power supply had been destroyed by the control brains at the time of Zim's "death". The base itself had a self-destruct mechanism in case of discovery, but if the humans found Zim's cruiser, all hell could break loose.

"You can fix it, Zim, but there might not be enough time," the computer said. Zim's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Fine!" he spat, changing the course of the elevator to the front room. He would have to get to the hospital on foot. His experiences of human transport had not been ones he was going to repeat, even in a situation such as this. He sprinted off down the street, following the route that he was now familiar with, though through rather undesirable circumstances.

He passed the river that had started it all, for him at least. He spared it a single glance, considering that it wasn't really the river that had started it for him, though he was unsure exactly what had. The death of the Tallest had been the milestone that had finally sucked him, kicking and screaming, into Dib's situation, but he had been involved with the Cross human as well. And the Reverend. He had been the witness to the murder of Mr Raise. At what point _had_ he become a part to this whole sordid affair?

The blast of a car horn brought Zim back to reality, and he realised that his ready feet had carried him almost all the way to the hospital. There was just the main road to cross, and he had nearly been taken down. Dib's last hope of salvation had nearly been dashed by a young man in a flashy red sports car, followed by two paramedics in an ambulance, then a doctor, then a documented autopsy. Or at least, that was how Zim pictured the sequence of events that would occur, had he been hit.

Zim stood at the crossing and jabbed repeatedly at the button, his eyes watching the 'don't walk' light with hatred and impatience. These few minutes could be Dib's last, and they were all clocking up. Or rather, counting down.

--

_Extract from the patient profile of Dib T. Membrane by Dr H. Toppam_

...Then there is the more interesting matter of what could well be the physical cause of Dib's insanity. When first admitted to this hospital, Dib was examined by Dr Redgrave for general illnesses. Dr Redgrave stated that whilst Dib was clearly in an unfit mental state, he was fine physically, bar one point. Redgrave had reason to believe that the boy had not had more than two hours sleep at a time for several months. He was physically exhausted, and was found to have abnormally high levels of caffeine in his blood, dangerously close to toxic levels.

When questioned about this, Dib answered simply that he "liked coffee". He would say no more. It is my theory that the boy, restless from nightmares about the horrific things his mental state had caused him to do, was unable to sleep. Instead he drank coffee, on top of the amount that one might drink normally. The elevated caffeine levels and lack of sleep, coupled with an unstable mind, may well have caused these blackouts and, as Dib has dubbed them, "personality jumps", to occur.

Of course, the loneliness caused by his neglect at home and from being shunned by his peers is also a likely theory to the origins of Emma Dribben and her murderous ways, but we also have reports that Dib has also mentioned his late mother. He has made more frequent references to two people known only as 'the twins'...

--

"You can't," Damian said clearly, and he and Desdemona stepped forwards suddenly, flanking Dib on either side as he stood on the middle step of the stepladder.

"You mustn't," Desdemona concurred, touching his arm lightly. Her fingernails looked like talons, and had been painted the same bloody crimson as her pouty lips.

"And yet, I will," Dib said, more to himself than to them. Though of course, that was the same thing.

These two doppelgangers were nothing more than a mirror of their sister, ones who were winning and leading, who had convinced him to murder for himself. So charming when they were talking to him, but feral, whooping, shrieking beasts if they didn't have their own way. Their appearances had degenerated from happy, friendly siblings to freakish, horror-show dummies. Their eyes were silver and empty. Well, they could scream all they wanted; they wouldn't have their way with him again. Dib said as much, and Damian's mouth twitched into that familiar smirk.

"And why is that?" he asked as Desdemona tilted her lips towards Dib's.

"I don't believe in you anymore," Dib repeated. They disappeared faster than his mother, but with a piercing double shriek that would have brought the nurses running had they been able to hear it. Emma remained, her face thundery, horrific, chilling. However, Dib felt no fear. He was facing his demons, and he knew he was going to win, by any means possible.

He moved up to the last step.

--

WALK! That wonderful, wonderful word. _Walk_. It finally appeared in all of its green-lit splendour, bringing the cars to a halt. Zim crossed the chasm of the road with no little sense of triumph in his heart. The hospital doors were in sight. Dib's suicide mission would be stopped with the same efficiency as the cars had been by that little light, and he, Zim, would be the hero once again. _Even_. He reached the doors, which slid open smugly to let him in.

He stepped into the hospital and a surge of panic swept over him. Now that he was so close, he was certain that the human had already done it; he was too late. If only he had repaired the Voot first, instead of plotting to take over the Empire. He ran to the desk, where a beautiful blonde receptionist was reading a fashion magazine. She was chewing gum slowly, and every so often she would blow a lazy pink bubble.

"I need to see..." Zim began urgently, and she looked up slowly, staring at him through brittle mascara coated lashes. He trailed off at the impatience in her eyes.

"Visiting hours are over," she drawled, pointing to a chart with an immaculate nail. Zim stared incredulously at it. Apparently, visiting hours finished at 18:00. The digital clock next to it read 18:01.

"Listen to Zim, you miserable she-beast," he growled, pointing a threatening claw at her throat. She rolled her eyes and pushed a red button. Security guards began to pile out of a door. Zim blanched. "No! You don't understand, it's the Dib! He's going to do something incredibly..."

The guards grabbed Zim and he sighed. He hadn't been counting on having to use one of his emergency defence mechanisms, and the Tallest's PAK was full of them. He closed his eyes, covered them with his hands, and deployed one of them. A flash of burningly bright light erupted from the PAK, instantly stunning everyone in the room. The rays, intensified by the glass of the window, caused a bird outside to catch fire. Zim rubbed his eyes, looking at the damage with interest.

"Nice," he muttered thoughtfully, before remembering what he was here for. He ran for the double doors, racking his memory as he did so for Dib's cell number.

--

As Dib slipped the coarse rope around his neck the whole cell changed. The floor dropped away to be replaced with a bottomless pit. The walls melted into nothingness. The only things that continued to exist were the stepladder, the rope and Emma, who stood before him with murderous eyes. Things were not going the way she had planned. They were going the way _Dib_ had planned for once, and that was not what she wanted. Not what she wanted at all. When she eventually spoke, her voice remained stoic, though she looked mad enough to spit blood.

"I can't believe it's come to this," she said, staring at the noose with a glint of unease. Freda, the twins, they were gone. She could go just as easily, and she intended to cling to Dib's brain cells for as long as she could.

"D'you mean hanging out in a padded cell with my imaginary friends or committing suicide?" Dib asked, just as coolly. At this, Emma hissed, actually _hissed_ with rage.

"You think you're so _strong_, Dib Membrane. You forget that I made you. Without me, you're nothing. The letters don't make sense," she said in a gloating voice.

"Without you, I was normal," Dib said in a voice that was as clear and unwavering as the chime of a bell, "And I don't believe in you anymore."

Emma smiled and Dib felt a weight drop in his stomach. There was only one way to slay this dragon, and she knew it too. His hands came up to check the noose and he tensed his legs, bracing himself. He could hear Zim's voice, yelling down the corridor. He had wondered how long it would take the alien to work out what he had planned. It was now or never. Emma looked up, accepting her fate.

"Any last words?" she asked dryly. Dib's eyes glinted coldly.

"Only yours," he whispered.

The door burst open as a blast from a laser gun cut through the lock. Zim came hurtling into the room just in time to see Dib step forwards, a determined grimace on his face. The snap of his neck echoed sharply in the cell, despite the padding on the walls. Then all that was left of Dib Membrane and Emma Dribben was dangling inches from the floor, swinging back and forth as an agonized alien shriek filled the hospital.

**AN**

**Please review and I shall update soon. **

**This story has now been on for exactly one year today.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben, as well as Freda Membrane. **


	33. The End

Chapter 32

The End

Zim was running at top speed for the second time that day, and with no less urgency than he had been the first time. Things were not going to his original plans, and he wasn't all too happy about the new ones that he had made so hastily as he had cut down Dib's body from the ceiling of his cell and made off with it. He had had a sense of déjà vu in the second that he had seen Dib step off the top of the ladder, his face set in a grimace but with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. He had been reminded of a dream that he had had whilst he lay on the couch, his PAK struggling to purify his tainted blood.

In it, he had seen Dib drop through the air where he had been standing, just as he had done when he had hung himself. As the dream had faded, he had seen something else. And now, as he sprinted down alleyways and dark corners, Zim thought that maybe that vision could be the way to save Dib, even from death itself. Zim ran through the woods to the warehouse that Ms Cross was buried next to, knowing that he needed to stay hidden. He was hardly inconspicuous, carrying a Dib's body with the noose still flapping around its neck.

He kicked the door of the warehouse open and scuttled up the walls to the place where he had hidden the painkillers. There were only a handful of bags left there now, a painful reminder of his own attempt to make things seem a little better. He and Dib weren't so different, perhaps, in some respects. They just had different ways of dealing with things, or rather, not dealing with things. He covered Dib with the few remaining bags and left for his base to fix the Voot Cruiser. He knew that his time was limited.

--

Martha Hopkins opened her eyes with great difficulty and attempted to look around the lobby. All she could see was a great yellow box that hung over her vision, like the ghostly remains of a camera flash. That was quite a good metaphor, she thought to herself. Or was it a simile? She had flunked English. In fact, she had flunked quite a few of her exams, which was why she was only the secretary at this hospital instead of the doctor she had set out to become all those years ago. Still, simile or metaphor, the idea meant something to her, and she tried to remember what had happened.

Ten minutes later the box had cleared from her eyes but her memory still eluded her. She looked up at the digital clock on the wall. It read 19:01. This set off alarm bells in her head, and she stared hard at it for several seconds. It had been 18:01, and the young man with the odd-coloured skin had been angry about that, because... Martha kneaded her forehead with a fist, desperate to remember everything.

Finally it came to her. She had told him he couldn't visit a patient, because visiting hours ended at six, and then he had insulted her in some way. She had buzzed security and he had shouted something that had made little sense, then his backpack had exploded into bright light. That had been an hour ago. She sighed. The doctors did their final rounds at six, which explained why nobody had come down and discovered this mess. She glanced around the room at the various security guards and visitors that littered it, some of them also coming back to reality slowly but surely.

Suddenly, an alarm went off in the lobby, which made many of the semi-conscious people wake up a lot faster. A young nurse came skittering down the stairs, and her face was pale and sick-looking. Martha had seen that look a hundred times or more on new employees; it was the expression of a newbie who has discovered something is wrong and knows they could lose their job if they don't fix it. The nurse's face morphed into one of horror when she saw the destruction in the lobby.

"Oh my... Martha, what happened?" she gasped, and now Martha pulled herself up from the floor shakily.

"No, you go first, sweetheart. Who pulled the alarm?" she asked.

"Me," the nurse said bleakly, "I was just checking in on Patient number... erm... Well, his name's Dib anyway, and he's missing. There's a stepladder under the air vent, and his straight jacket's on the floor, so I think someone's helped him to escape. He might be loose in the hospital, Martha, and I don't know what to do!"

Martha stood in mute disbelief, trying to work out what she was being told. Dib had escaped. The name rang a bell, and suddenly she remembered that the young man who had caused all of the mess in the lobby had mentioned his name. He had said that Dib was going to do something, before security had charged him. The nurse carried on babbling nonsense before she interrupted her.

"What was Dib in here for, Ingrid?" she asked, and the nurse, seemingly having her sanity restored at the sound of her name, stopped babbling at once.

"He murdered six people and attempted to kill a social worker, and his school thinks he may also be behind the disappearance of one of their teachers as well," she said softly.

Without another word, Martha strode over to the desk and dialled 911. She talked to the police calmly, even as Ingrid, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was on the phone, repeatedly asked her what had happened in the lobby. The voice on the other line was strong and reassuring. When she put the phone down she made her way around to the other side of the desk, picking a path around the piles of unconscious people, and sank into her swivel chair.

--

It took an hour of tinkering, replacing parts, swearing and hitting the Voot with a spanner before Zim finally got the machine working again. He had expected little else, but it was a set-back nonetheless. He was pretty sure that by now the secretary and security guards at the hospital had recovered from being stunned, and that the nurses had discovered the empty cell and the stepladder. Were there cameras in the cell? Did it even matter? There were cameras in the corridors that would doubtless have recorded Zim walking to Dib's cell and running out with his body.

Soon the Earth authorities would be after him, and if they found him before he managed to fix this mess, everything that had happened would be for nothing, including him replacing his PAK, because he would be dissected for sure. Zim shuddered. Dissection would be a much more unpleasant death than simply being shut down by the control brains. He hadn't come this far to risk losing everything... so why was he risking it all for a human that was dead now anyway?

"It's not right," he muttered to himself as he slid into the seat of the Voot. Though it was difficult to accept, he knew deep down that it was true. Dib had tried to kill him, but had saved him in the nick of time. He had then even managed to save him from the entire Irken race. Well, he had killed Dib, and now he needed to save him, not only from himself, but also from the entire human race. Dib deserved that much, at least.

He set off in the Voot towards the warehouse, keeping under the cover of clouds as much as possible. It was getting dark, and the air was crisp and cold. As Zim passed over the hospital, he looked down to see flashing blue and red lights. The police had been notified, then. He looked at the Earth watch on his wrist that, as well as being part of his disguise, was also very useful for situations such as this. It read 19:35. He sped up at this, knowing that his time was, in fact, even more limited than he had originally presumed.

Finally Zim reached the warehouse, touching down in the clearing next to it and practically falling out of the Voot in his haste. As he opened the door, he remembered with a pang of horror that, on the night that he had buried Ms Cross, her body was being eaten by rats. He scrambled up the ladder and hurried over to the corner where he had hidden Dib, and was instantly relieved to see that the scavenging rodents were nowhere to be found. He picked Dib up, handling him as though he were made of glass as he carried him back to the Voot Cruiser.

He placed the body in the back of the spaceship and then turned back. There was one more job he had to do here. He made his way back into the warehouse, over to the corner with the anonymous white paper bags. Using a lighter from his new PAK, he set them ablaze before fleeing for the Voot. As he started up the engine and set off for his base, smoke began to pour from the high, broken windows of the blank building. Zim regarded this with mild relief. Too many dark deeds had been done in that terrible place for him to let it remain there. The same went for this crummy planet and everything on it. As soon as this was over, he was going to leave in the Voot and put this whole mess behind him.

--

The laboratory was dark and cold. Zim had never minded about this before, in fact he revelled in it, but now that he stood over Dib's pallid corpse, strapping it to the dissection table that had been prepared for Tallest Red, he felt a chill that ran to the tips of his antennas. He wasn't why he _was_ strapping Dib down, something else that made him slightly nervous. What was he expecting, that Dib would come back as some horror-film zombie and try to drag him, kicking and screaming, into oblivion? He attempted a sarcastic chuckle, but all he managed was a nervous and chilling giggle that hung in the air like mist. He shuddered.

He used an oversized pair of scissors to cut the coarse rope from around the bruised and twisted neck. The rope had left a raw burn around his throat like a dog-collar, and as Zim gently lifted the body to examine the back of his neck, Dib's head rolled right back at an impossible angle until he was staring Zim in the face with lifeless eyes. His glasses were cracked, and Zim removed them and placed them on the side of the table, trying to avoid catching that blank gaze again.

The only real damage to the body was the broken neck, which Zim thought he could fix quite easily. He had performed many experiments on various subjects in order to better learn about the human anatomy, and had discovered that a certain Irken mineral caused rapid growth and repair of human bones. If he could realign the broken area of Dib's neck, then bring him back to life and inject the mineral, he could, in theory, save him. And he knew exactly how to bring him back to life. Zim had kept Dib's memory file in case of emergency, though he wasn't really sure how it would ever come in handy. At the end of the dream he had had, he had seen Dib turn away from him with a PAK on his back.

"There's still one PAK left," he muttered aloud now, and smiled broadly. When the Tallest had come to Earth, they had thought that they were stopping Zim from overthrowing them. "Bet they didn't think they'd end up in my freezer," he chuckled, before bursting out laughing. The lights in the laboratory flickered softly, as he set to work.

He didn't feel the same nervous shiver as he opened the freezer drawer that contained Tallest Purple. In fact, he was grinning as he did so, and when he pried the PAK from his frozen back. Though the machine struggled weakly in his hands, Zim didn't feel it, and he plugged it into his computer with hands that shook from excitement. He slotted the disk that contained Dib's brain into a receptor next to it.

"Computer," he said in a voice that was loud, but completely calm, "Delete Irken personality and memory files."

The same animation of a PAK being thrown in a trash compactor appeared onscreen, before being replaced by a large green tick. The computer confirmed that the files had been deleted, and the PAK stopped its struggles. Zim then pressed a large round button with great aplomb, and cleared his throat.

"Now, computer, copy files from memory slot A into blank PAK drive," he said, and lights began to flash on the PAK, which was making a series of beeps and clicks as it sorted itself out. A screen that had once shown Purple's statistics now changed to small green text.

_Name: Dib_

_Species: Human_

Now all that remained to be done was to fix Dib's neck. Zim returned to the dissection room, putting on gloves and an apron as he did so. As he sliced into the back of Dib's neck and used some putty to seal the bones together temporarily, Zim thought properly about what he was doing. He couldn't stay here, not now. Sooner or later the Earth authorities would catch up with him, and discover what had happened. He, and Dib, would have to disappear, go to the furthest corner of the universe and lay low. He had let the opportunity to become Tallest slip through his finger tips.

He put these thoughts aside, sewing the neck back up swiftly and pricking his fingers a dozen times as he did so. He mustn't think like this, not now. Anyway, his last attempt to become Tallest hadn't exactly gone to plan, had it? He sighed and picked up the violet PAK, pressing a small reset button on the underside. It whirred into life and started to writhe in Zim's hands once more. He placed it on Dib's back and held his breath. Metal claws burst through his flesh and attached themselves, sending the body jerking spastically on the table. Suddenly, Zim was glad he had strapped it down.

As Zim watched the jerking corpse, more doubts flooded into his mind. There was the issue of exactly what would happen to Dib if this plan actually worked. What if his body accepted the PAK, but not the memories? Then he, Zim, would be stuck with some oblivious human, stuck with teaching him how to speak and eat and read. What if Dib came back exactly as before, murderous and deranged? Zim jumped at GIR ran into the laboratory, humming a bouncy tune.

"Whatcha doing, masta?" the robot asked, and Zim answered immediately, glad to have someone to talk to.

"I'm reviving the Dib," he said, rather proudly, before adding, "He went a little crazy before."

"He's sick _and_ twisted!" GIR put in cheerfully, and Zim groaned.

"What if he's supposed to die?" he mused aloud, "If that Emma-beast comes back too... What if this is all wrong?"

Yet at that moment, all of his thoughts were pushed from his mind as there was a gasp from the table behind him.

**AN**

**Please review. Though this chapter is entitled 'The End', there is actually one more to come, so stay tuned!**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. Emma Dribben and Martha Hopkins belong to me.**


	34. Epilogue

Epilogue

Peace

The young grooble beast sat perfectly still on the rock, its vibrant orange fur rippling in the gentle breeze. Three suns beat down scorching rays on the lush vegetation, crisping it gently as evaporation clouds shimmered like cloaking fields in the air. There was a soft rustling noise coming from the jungle behind the rock, and the grooble turned its head a hundred and eighty degrees to face whatever was making it. It was met with nothing but silence. After an age of sitting completely emotionless and still hearing nothing, its plump body turned underneath its head to face the jungle as well.

Suddenly there was a clicking noise and a bright flash of light. Startled, the grooble blinked its four black eyes and froze in terror. It was only when the adolescent human pushed through the large leaves where it had been hiding that the furry creature leapt from the rock and scampered away, bleating hoarsely. Smiling, the boy heaved himself up onto the rock and lifted up his camera again, documenting the grooble's retreat in a series of clicks.

When the orange creature was no more than a spot on the horizon, he lay back and smiled up at the sky. This planet was his favourite by far; the life forms were interesting and exotic, and the climate was warm. He would miss it when they had to leave. Sighing, he stood up and pressed his hands into the back of his neck, rotating his head slowly. The tendons of his neck creaked and crunched, making a sound like cement-mixer that had once sickened him, but he was now used to. His neck was always stiff, and sometimes painful, but that was only to be expected.

Hanging his bag of camera equipment over his shoulder, he turned back to the jungle and set off to the base. The walk didn't take an incredibly long time, but sweat was pouring down his face in rivulets by the time he made it through the humid sauna of trees and plants. And bugs. The mosquitoes here were the size of eggs, and their appetite wasn't limited only to that of the local wildlife. Young alien boys were just as appetising, despite the fact that his blood seemed to be toxic to them. Either way, the bites swelled up like golf-balls and were incredibly irritating.

The base was now in sight, and as he drew closer he saw a reclining chair hovering on a shimmering cushion of air just outside it. Since they had moved to this planet, the chair had become somewhat of a fixture there, moving only as the sun did in the sky. He walked up to it, grinning slightly at the form that lay there, holding a mirror to reflect the rays onto its face. There was a pitcher of lurid blue liquid on a small hovering tray next to the lounger, and he poured himself a glass now, gulping the sweet, sticky juice and relishing its delicious coolness. At the sound of the sloshing liquid, the sunbathing Irken cracked open one eye.

"Find anything?" Zim asked indifferently, and Dib nodded, swiping his hand across his lips and setting the glass back down on the tray.

"Some orange fluffy thing on a rock," he said, fishing the camera from its bag and showing Zim the picture. "What is it?"

"Eh, just a grooble," Zim replied lazily, "Eats insects, good swimmer. Make good pets, if you can be bothered to look after one."

"Could we..."

"No."

"Fine. I'll go add it to my scrapbook," he said, heading into the base and leaving the Irken to reapply sun block to the tips of his antennas. Since they had come to this planet, Zim's skin had darkened to a shade close to forest green, save for two white spots on his cheeks where they had started to burn.

When Dib had started his scrapbook he had written in his section about Irkens that, from his observations, overexposure to sunlight made them logy and sluggish. Later on he had considered that perhaps Zim was just taking a break from the initial frenzied and often terror-filled fleeing that they had had to endure. It had taken them a long time to find a planet whose residents didn't want to kill them or turn them in to the Irken armada. The one that they were on at the moment was one that had been overlooked by the control brains as an unimportant planet, but even so Zim wanted them to move away after a couple of months to minimize danger.

When he had woken up, gasping and screaming on the operating table back on Earth all those months ago, things had been a blur. After a few hurried tests to ensure that all of Dib's mental features were still intact, Zim had started immediately on preparing for their escape, roping Dib in as much as possible without actually explaining what they were doing. The computer was shut down, all Irken technology was packed up and the Tallest's bodies were disposed of. Dib had been put in charge of the latter task; dragging the two aliens to the river he had pushed Zim into and dropping them in. He had been rather disturbed to note that it only took twenty minutes for the entire bodies to dissolve, bones and all.

That night, as they were packing the last of the things into the Voot, there had been a booming knock at the door. Peering out of a window, Dib had seen several police officers brandishing weapons, ready to take away "that crazy scumbag that stole a body from the hospital". Without another word, Zim had bundled Dib into the Voot, thrown GIR in with him and had taken off into space. It was only then that he had explained to an awestricken Dib what had happened. They had visited several planets to collect supplies before the Voot had been recognised. That was when the problems had really started. Still, as Zim often liked to point out, they had managed to survive for this long without being caught and without Dib killing everyone, and that was what really mattered.

Dib sat down now, picking up the heavy scrapbook and pasting the photo of the grooble into it. The book was a huge log of every alien he encountered on the trip, where they lived, what they ate and other facts and figures. As he carefully wrote the entry for the grooble, he considered that it was really just a slightly less obsessive form of his notes about Zim, all of which had been included in the section about Irkens. Zim had been very uncomfortable when he had read exactly how much Dib had managed to find out about him over the years, and had also insisted that he posed for a better photo that the several hundred ones Dib had taken since he had arrived on Earth.

Maybe it didn't matter that he still had his obsession with aliens when it had clearly not been the factor that had pushed him over the edge in the first place. Also he wasn't lonely, not now that he and Zim weren't rivals anymore. He smiled to himself at this. He had once told Emma that he would rather die that be friends with Zim, though he'd prefer it if Zim died. In the end, they both had; Zim legally and him physically. She had been right about the fact that they weren't that different as well, something that he was noticing every day since he had saved him.

Though he hadn't told Zim about it, Emma had appeared to him one more time. One last time. He had woken up in the middle of the night to find her sitting solemnly on the end of his bed, and had scrambled backwards immediately, his heart thumping. However, her face wasn't like it had been towards the end of his insanity, and her voice was just as friendly as it had been when she had been little more than a conscience. She had stood up and walked towards around to sit next to him.

"What do you want from me?" Dib had whispered, and she had sighed, her eyes glistening with ghostly tears.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry, Dib," she had said earnestly, "I never wanted things to end the way they did. I guess I got a little carried away with trying to help you out."

"Finally figured that out, huh?" he muttered bitterly, and she had smiled.

"You and Zim are friends now," she had noted, "That's good. I guess you won't be talking to yourself anymore. So... I guess you won't be talking to me either. That's good too."

"I told you I could make friends. _Real_ friends," he had said with the barest hint of pride in his voice.

"And I told _you_ that you and Zim could be friends if you put your differences aside," she added with a grin.

"Yeah. But I still worked that out for myself, didn't I?" he had said testily. Emma nodded and stood up, walking to the door.

"I'll be off then," she had whispered, "Goodnight, Dib. I won't bother you again."

Then she stepped through the door and disappeared. The feeling of a weight coming off his heart was one Dib had never forgotten, and as he relived the moment, he smiled dreamily. He knew that this time, Emma really was gone for good, and that things could only get better for him. He and Zim were friends, he was finally feeding his love of the paranormal, and the universe was his oyster. It didn't matter about what had had done in the past, or that they were running from an army that was slowly taking over the universe.

He was finally at peace.

**AN**

**Please review. The end has finally come, though I'm really going to miss writing this story. Lord knows it's been going on for long enough, though.**

**I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone that reviewed this story whilst it was up, and everyone that stuck with it from the first chapter to the last. You've helped to keep me writing!**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. I own:**

**Emma Dribben, Damian and Desdemona (and the rest of the Dribben clan), Freda Membrane, Sandra Ciapor and any other minor character not mentioned in the show.**


End file.
